The Long Road Home
by fadingreality
Summary: Stef doesn't save Callie from Russell quickly, and she is trafficked. The first several chapters WILL be graphic/disturbing! Rape, torture, etc. Once past those parts, this story will focus on Callie's recovery(mostly mentally) and will deal with PTSD. Please no critiques, I'm not trying to be a pro.
1. Chapter 1

As I sat there staring blankly at the wall, I realized the mistakes I had made in getting here.

The most clear one at the moment was making the decision to hide my phone somewhere that was not on my body.

But as this pimp sat in front of me, eyeing me as though I was only a body and not a person, I saw all the little steps that led me here. The insistence to prove Kyle's innocence, only to have him throw all of my efforts back in my face and practically confess. The unwillingness to let it go. The feeling that nobody was standing up for someone who needed help. The determination that I could be the one to fix things for him, which has led to me ruining everything for myself.

It's so screwed up it would almost be funny, if I weren't in this position right now.

It hits me like a slap in the face that this is my fault. This situation, all the situations I've been in before, every time I try to do good, I mess it up. I suddenly remember Stef's words to me, weeks back when she discovered I had broken into a home to find evidence.

"You're going to go to prison. For years. At this point, maybe that's what you deserve."

I know she apologized. I know she didn't mean it. But the sting of her disappointment hurts worse now than it did in the moment. She was right. For all the trouble and chaos I have caused for people, particularly my moms…. I did deserve that. I may not be going to jail now like I was supposed to, but nothing in me doubts that this will be a far worse price to pay.

But it's mine and mine alone.

I'm tired of fighting the fact that my life was never destined to be worth anything more than this. That much has been clear. The road has been stacked against me from the start, and when I had the chance to make things right, I only made them worse.

I think of my mom right now, likely out following a device that will only lead her further away from me. I wonder if she has caught up to them. Has she discovered I am not there? I left her with a dead end, and expected her to find me. I feel the hopelessness inside me expand and swallow me whole with this realization. Nobody is coming for me. At least, not yet. And by the time they do.. I suspect it won't be in time. She's going to blame herself, and it's not even her fault. Again, I see myself causing pain to the ones I love. Maybe it is better for them, this way. For me to be out of their lives once and for all, where the only thing left for me to destroy is myself.

I hope that Christina won't find her way into a mess this bad after all of this. I hope that the last choice I willingly made has actually left someone better off. That's all I am hoping for, at this point. That's all I care about. Let something positive come from my life. Please.

As Russell moves from the chair toward me, I am snapped back into the moment.

"You look pretty innocent to be 16, Christina.." Russell remarks as he kneels in front of me, laying his hand on my knee.

The numb and hollow way I was feeling suddenly evaporates. My body feels like a livewire, and my heart pounds loudly in my ears. Even through my jeans, his touch feels as though it burns.

"I need to use the bathroom." it's an excuse I use instead of saying what I really want, which is that I need him to stop touching me. I need to get out of this dingy motel. I need to be away from his reach and never think of this place again.

Russell gazes at me for a minute with a look in his eye I can't name. "mmm.. I don't think you do, though."

"Let me tell you how this whole thing works, Tina. That way we don't find ourselves in any kind of.. Disagreement. You know? Sound good?" He says it all with a charming smile, as though we are on a blind date right now, as though there is no gun on his hip, and I am not being held against my will.

I swallow and give a slight nod. Allowing myself a breath of air as he removes his hand from my leg.

"Awesome. The deal is, I'll give you whatever kind of life you want here. I can hook you up. I've got access to all sorts of things, legal or not" he gives me a smirk, placing his hand on my lower leg.

"In trade for that, you give me a little of what I want. You give, you get. Seem fair? I think so. All I really want from my girls is loyalty and respect. Don't bite the hand that feeds you, sort of thing. If you ask for something, I'll get it for you. If I ask for something, I expect to get it. That's called respect." The smile fades a bit as he lets some of his dark side show. "I don't put up with girls that argue, or try to tell me what to do or not do. The rules here are simple.. Do what you're told, and you'll be taken care of. Start trouble, and.. Well, I guess we'd just let you go." the bright smile returns as he shifts his free hand to rest on his weapon, seeking my eyes and making sure that the meaning of being let go is made clear to me. "That make sense?"

There's nothing else for me to do but say what he wants me to say.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Since the last chapter was so short, here's another one.

"Great! Now, where were we?" Russell gets to his feet before turning to walk back toward his chair.

The fear struck in my heart by his sentence is equally balanced with the relief I feel of him moving away from me. He sits down and looks at me expectantly, looking a bit like he is about to laugh. I am silent. I see headlights go by outside and notice that it seems to be a quieter area of the city, wherever we are. _Of course it is_ my mind whispers _fewer people to hear or see you._

I am taking notice of the door, estimating the distance, knowing there is no way for me to make it there, unlock it, and escape before he grabs me. But, maybe at a later time. The way this motel is set, you have to walk past the door to get to another room. Maybe I'll have a chance. I need to be ready. Maybe I actually can get myself out of this.

I find myself jumping when he speaks again, as if I've been caught doing something wrong. "It's awful hot in here, don't'cha think?"

"Yeah." I respond. It is, although I would have agreed even if it weren't, as it doesn't seem a wise idea to disagree with him. There is no air movement, and the panic buried inside my body is making me feel like a furnace.

"Well then, take off that shirt you got on. It looks heavy." He gives me a wave of his hand, and leans back with arms crossed. I can't tell whether this is a test, or he just wants a show.

I suspect with him, it is both.

I can feel my hands trembling. I am afraid where this will go. I don't want to do it. But I have to. I may be stuck in a shitty existence, but I don't want to die. I don't want to be _killed_.

I close my eyes briefly before slowly pulling the heavy flannel over my head, letting it drop quietly to the floor. I'm so thankful for the tank top I'm wearing underneath, knowing that while I am far more exposed than I was, I am still covered. _It's okay_ , I tell myself. _Nothing's happened. You're okay_.

I don't know for how much longer this will be true, but I will cling to it.

Russell lets out a chuckle. "Damn, girl. You would have more clothes on under there. What are you, one of those russian dolls?" he shakes his head, clearly finding himself amusing. I remain silent. "Take off the rest of your tops." This time, there's no question if he's testing me. This is a command, no hint of question or seeking permission.

I feel as though the hollowness has engulfed me again. I let my vision blur and my hands move of their own accord as I peel off the tank top, feeling more vulnerable than I have since…. Well. I won't let my mind go there. _This is different. That isn't going to happen again. It can't. I will be okay, I just have to be smart. Everything will be okay._

"The rest, Christina, take off the bra. And step out of those jeans while you're at it." He is leaning back still, sipping that god-awful drink, looking utterly satisfied at what is transpiring.

I feel my eyes burning with tears that are too afraid to make themselves known. I no longer feel able to move. My hands that just a minute ago moved robotically, now feel filled with lead. I find myself staring a hole into the wall, apparently taking too long to react as Russell sets down the drink and sits forward. "If you listen to me, I'll keep you safe. But you gotta do what I say, or who knows what could happen.." he trails off, his hand reaching for the gun as he unholsters it and lays it on the table.

I think of what he just said, about keeping me safe. I think about how far I am from safe right now. I remember how my mom's always tell me I am safe, and how I've never felt safer with anyone else than them. I think of how I have never felt more unsafe than in this moment.

I stand up and unzip my jeans.

"Good girl." He praises, like I'm a dog.

I slowly inch them down, until they pool at my feet.

 _I wish I was with my moms. I wish I was safe. I wish I wasn't here. God, please, let her find me. Please let her be here soon. Please don't let this happen._

My hands reach up to unhook my bra. With a pop, it falls around my chest, and I let it drop. I circle my arms around myself, trying to offer any protection against his stare that I can. I refuse to sit back down on the bed. I'm already vulnerable, I don't need to be even more so.

My mind is a whirlpool of thoughts, random pieces of my life being thrown around in my head, desperate for a distraction from reality, but unable to detach. It is still hot, but I find that I am shivering.

"Boy, you are one pretty girl, huh." Russell stands, hands in front of him as he reaches and latches onto my wrist. "Come over here with me." He says, tugging me toward him. I try to plant myself into the ground. If I just don't move, if I stay right where I am, I will be okay.

He gives me a harder pull, and I stumble. He uses this to pull me closer to him as he sits back into the chair. "Don't worry. We won't do anything you're not okay with." He murmurs as he pulls off his own shirt, and I feel bile rise in my throat. I'm already not okay with this. I haven't been okay with this the whole time. I never will be.

 _Where are my moms? Where is anyone? Why have I done this to myself?_

Russell stands again, stepping out of his own jeans and kicking them off to the side before taking a seat again, left in only his boxers and the heavy chain around his neck. He reaches up to grab my wrists with both hands, pulling me forward until I'm standing directly in front of him. "Come on baby, it's alright, we ain't doing nothin' but gettin' to know each other."

I want to run, to punch him, to spit on him, to scream, but I find myself only able to remain frozen instead. As paralyzed as a mouse in a cat's mouth. I feel empty and heavy, all at once.

He puts an arm around my back, forcing me forward, straddling his lap. I grip the top of the chair, anything to give me something solid, something real that I can focus on. I can feel him hardening against me, and the panic inside grows more prevalent. He moves to put his hands around my waist and grips tight, forcing me down hard against him, tight enough to make me gasp in pain. He lets out a little moan and glances up at my face "You like that, too?" He releases my waist to reach up and remove my hands from the chair, lowering them each onto his shoulders. "That's better, isn't it?"

 _No_ , I think. _I don't want to feel you. I don't want to touch you._ I don't move, regardless. I can't.

He reaches and pulls my head toward him, I pull slightly against him and feel him pause. "It'll all be okay if you just listen, remember?" He whispers, guiding my head more forcefully towards him as he starts kissing me, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

I try to pull back on instinct, using my hands to push against his chest, overwhelmed by the smell and taste of him, feeling smothered and afraid. He releases my mouth and reaches with one hand to grab me by the back of my neck, hard enough that I feel my skin screaming from the pressure. He suddenly turns serious and dark, and I know that I have used up one of my chances. "What did I tell you, Christina? I don't stand for people telling me what to do, whether that's verbal or not. You need to relax and smarten up."

He releases my neck and reaches for the drink. "Chug the rest." It's at least 3/4 full still, of God only knows what. But, I am grateful for the respite in his advances. I drink as slowly as I can, trying to draw out the time. "I said chug, babe, not sip. Damn. Finish it." He growls, and it's clear I've wasted all the time I could. I feel sick to my stomach after finishing it, and I'm unsure if it's from the drink or the situation. Probably both.

He pushes me back off of him and lets me stumble backwards. I catch myself on the edge of the bed, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding in.

He's in front of me again, and I can feel the change in his mood; the darkening. His arm snakes out to grab my throat, and my arms wrap around his hand immediately; instinctively. He is squeezing too hard, and all I can think about is getting air. He manages to push me against the bed, knocking my legs out from under me. He moves my body up the bed by my neck, and now I am clawing frantically at his arms. My vision is getting blurry, my head feels filled with pressure.

 _I'm going to die. I don't want to die._

He removes his hand from my neck and I immediately cover it with my own, desperate to get oxygen and protect myself from his hands again. I'm trying to recover from how quickly this has turned violent, but find it impossible. I need to get off this bed, I need to get to the door. Before my thoughts can turn into action, he has climbed onto the bed with me, over me, and is pulling down his boxers. I feel him grasping at my underwear, and a new panic surges through me. _No, no, no. This isn't happening. This isn't real._ I shove against his chest, pleading with him to stop. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate for this not to be reality.

"Relax, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you, I promise." He grips my wrists in one hand, raising them above my head. I hear metal clang against metal and my eyes snap open. I'm trying to yank my wrists free, but he's too strong. In seconds, he has each wrist in separate cuffs hooked around the bars of the headboard. I'm crying. I don't know when the tears started, but they aren't stopping.

"That's better! The first time is always kinda weird, but you'll get used to it. I'll make it good for you, don't worry." He murmurs as he wipes a tear from under my eye. I flinch, the gentle touch an unexpected feeling.

He reaches and pulls down my underwear, and I find myself crying out again, begging him not to do this. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I am fully engulfed in panic, desperate to stop this, yet unable to move. He presses a finger roughly into me, and I scream. As quickly as his hand is removed, I am slapped hard across the face, enough to make me see black for a moment. His hand grips my face hard, and he leans in close. "Don't you EVER do that again. I'm putting up with a lot from you already, right now, acting like this is the worst thing. I won't tolerate anymore. You make one more move like that, and we're finished. You understand?"

I nod rapidly. _I can't die here. I can't let this be the last thing I remember._

"Good. I'm not gonna put up with your dramatic shit anymore. You're gonna get used to this." He lets go of my face, getting off the bed and grabbing his pistol and pack of cigarettes. Sliding back over me, he shoves the gun under my chin.

"You pull anymore stupid shit, and it'll be the last thing you do." He begins pressing his fingers into me again. I feel my body tense, and I bite back a scream against the intrusion. He withdraws his fingers and I feel a different pressure against me. He grips my shoulder with one hand, trying to get leverage to force himself inside me. The gun presses harder against my jaw. I am too tense. He is too big. I don't want this. I am pulling so hard against the cuffs that the pain rivals the pain between my legs.

"Relax, shit!" He leans his weight into me, giving several violent thrusts until he finally buries himself inside me. The pain is unbearable. My eyes are screwed shut, my mouth open in a silent scream. My breathing feels erratic and unreliable. He stays still for a minute, but the pain does not subside.

"Hey, look at me." I hear the command, and slowly open my eyes to stare back into his dark ones, smiling down on me. My breath comes out in heavy pants. "Please," I whisper. "Stop." He grins wider and pulls himself slowly out of me. There is hardly a relief in the pain when he slams himself back in. I can't stop the yell of pain that escapes my lips, and he is quick to grasp my face, burying his gun into my mouth, and I am sure I am about to die. This is it. I hear the blood rushing in my ears as fear fills every nerve.

"No no, Christina, remember? You make noises and you'll be punished." He picks up his pace, remaining rough and driving into me with a mission to cause me pain. He gags me with the gun, and I wretch. He pulls the gun out of my mouth, setting it aside to wrap his hands around my throat, squeezing tightly. I find myself pulling even harder against the metal encircling my wrists, the warmth of blood running slowly down my arms, and for a minute I wonder what will break first; my will or my wrists.

 _I can't breathe. I can't breathe. Someone help me. I am going to die, he is killing me._

My arms have gone painfully numb. Closing my eyes seems to exacerbate the pain. My throat is burning with the need for air, my mind grows fuzzy, and my vision feels dim. _How long will it take me to die? Am I close? Is this almost over?_ I feel the strength leave my limbs and I no longer have the ability to pull or push, capable of doing nothing but going limp.

Just as I begin to welcome the thought of unconsciousness, his hands leave my throat, moving to my breasts to twist and pinch. Air floods back into my lungs, but the fuzzy feeling remains. I wonder if it is from the drink, or if my mind is forming a shield around itself. He is pumping himself into me relentlessly, and I can feel an unusual warmth and wetness between my legs. It takes me longer than it should to realize it is blood.

 _Don't think about it. It's not real. This isn't really happening. I'm not really here._ I am looking at the ceiling and envisioning myself there. _What if I was up there? I think maybe I am. I'm floating up here. I'm not part of the tragedy happening to the girl in the bed._

He begins kissing me. My mouth, my neck, my breasts. "God, you're so tight. Fuck, you feel so good." He somehow picks up his pace and roughness even more, his grip around my waist tight enough to make the area go numb. He lets go only to wind his arms around the back of my neck, grabbing too roughly, biting my neck, my shoulders. He bites my ear and my head involuntarily jerks away. I shiver.

"You like that, huh? Say it. Say you like it. Call me daddy."

 _I am not real. This is not real. I'm not here right now_.

He leans back down to my ear, biting again, too hard, and I think my earring is ripped through my ear. "Say it, you little bitch."

I clench my jaw, shame and anger filling me. "No. Fuck you." I grit out. He may be able to hurt me, but he can't make me participate.

He stops moving immediately, letting loose a laugh that sends chills down my spine. He reaches over for the cigarettes, pulling one out and lighting it up without even getting off of me. He takes a few puffs, laughing to himself a couple more times and shaking his head. I'm unnerved and unsure what he's doing, but I'm too focused on trying to breathe with his weight on top of me to give it too much thought.

Suddenly he covers my mouth with one hand, pressing the lit cigarette into my side with the other, holding it there. I scream into his hand from the pain, unable to control it. He finally removes it, although the burning sensation does not subside.

"I explained the rules to you. I gave you a chance. You broke them, you disrespected me, AND you told me no. So you get punished. That's how things work. 'No' isn't an option, anymore. Understand?" He is staring at me with hard and unforgiving eyes. I nod, hot tears trailing down my cheeks. "Apologize to me." He commands. I shut my eyes, letting go of a sob. "I-I'm sorry." I whisper.

He lights up another cigarette, and my heart clenches. "I'm sorry!" I say, louder, afraid he is going to burn me again. "Yeah, I know." He says calmly, casually taking a drag off the cigarette. He starts moving slowly in and out of me again. "Now, call me daddy. Tell me you love it."

I take a shuddering breath. _I am not me. I am Christina. I'm not real._ "I… I love it, daddy." I feel my face flush at the words.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it? Keep saying it. Tell me you want more. Tell me you want me to fuck you."

I open my mouth, trying to form the words to protect myself from pain, but the shame of betraying myself keeps them locked in my throat. _I'm not me. I am Christina. Callie wouldn't say these things. Only Christina would._ "Took too long." He says, calmly covering my mouth and tightly pressing the cigarette into my stomach. I again scream in pain, writhing under his grasp. When he pulls it away, my chest is heaving, the pain nearly unbearable.

He throws the crumpled cigarette to the side, laying fully across my body as he thrusts harder into me. "One more chance. Say it, slut." He whispers, biting into my shoulder hard enough to break the skin. I gasp in pain. I say what he wants to hear, growing more distant inside with every second.

 _I'm disgusting. I hate myself. I hate myself._

He reaches a new level of frantic as he pumps into me. He grips my waist and pulls me toward him, stretching my wrists impossibly further against the cuffs, driving the metal deeper into my skin. He lets out a groan, grasping my throat tighter than before, and I feel a flicker of fear light inside me. He tenses, then collapses against me. His grip relaxes slightly against my throat, remaining there and making me highly aware of his capability to remove my ability to breathe with just a squeeze of his hand. His thrusting slows, enjoying the high of his release. His head is laid next to mine, his breathing rapid.

He slips out of me, and I feel wetness leaking out behind him. I am so thankful it is over, that I can almost ignore how disgusting I feel. _Almost_. I swallow, wishing the pain in my wrists would be eased. I am afraid to make any movement, any sound. I'm afraid to draw attention to myself, to remind him that I even exist. As though if I am still enough, he won't hurt me anymore.

He lays there for a few minutes until his breathing has slowed down. Too soon, he raises his head, moving his hand from my throat to brush through my hair. "You're the best girl I've had yet. That was amazing." He raises himself up, looking down at me. "I don't think that part was as good for you, though. No worries. I've got you. I never break my word. You gave me something, so you get something, too."


	3. Chapter 3

I feel my heartbeat increasing.

"First of all, you're looking a little strained there. Let me help you out." He grasps my waist and pushes me toward the headboard. I cry out as the intense pressure being relieved on my wrists somehow causes them more pain. "I'm gonna make you feel better, baby." He pushes me onto my side, grabbing me again and flipping me onto my stomach, my arms twisting painfully against the now re-tightened cuffs. The burn on my stomach is screaming from being rubbed against the bed. My face is shoved into the bedspread and I find I can only breathe if I twist my head to the side. I can't see what he is doing, and the fear reignites inside me stronger than before.

 _Mom. Mom. Please come. Please save me. Someone please help me. Make it stop. God, please, make this stop. No more._

He lays his body against mine, the weight of him pressing me into the bed, making it difficult to breathe at all. He is hard again, and the tears flow freely as I realize he isn't done with me yet. "I can't- " I begin to plead with him before cutting myself off, now fearful of being burned. "I'm sorry!" I explain, crying louder.

"It's okayyyyy! I'm gonna make it good for you this time, remember?" His voice is cheery, seeming not to have even noticed my pleas.

I feel him pressing against me, and I can't stop the whimper that escapes my mouth as he pushes into me, easier than before, but no less painful. His pace is slower this time, and he is laying kisses all along my spine and neck. I shiver uncomfortably when he bites my neck again. "See, this is gonna feel good." He comforts. Gently, he gathers my hair in his left hand, pulling backward as he wraps an arm under me, sliding his hand down to rub against me.

I let out a cry as my neck protests against the pressure, and he continues laying forceful bites into my neck, shoulders, and back. He slows down, matching his thrusts with the rhythm of his hand against me. He speeds up again, biting my neck at the same time he presses his hand roughly against a sensitive area. I yelp, and I understand what he is trying to make my body do. His pace remains steady and intentional. "Tell me you want it. Tell me not to stop."

I'm so focused on trying not to let him do this to me, I take too long to say it. He grips my hair and yanks back, his mouth right against my ear. "I said say it, Christina, unless you want another cigarette." He warns. Panicked, I concede immediately. "I want it. I want it, daddy. Don't stop."

Immediately he gets faster, even more intentional about his actions. I pull desperately against the cuffs, ignoring how much it hurts, ignoring the renewed flow of blood from my wrists as I groan and grit my teeth against the pain. _Please, God, please, not this. Don't do this to me._ I internally plead with my own body, desperate not to let him do this to me; take this from me. I can feel a pressure building inside of me, unable to stop it as my body begins to react to his direct and knowing stimulation.

After a few more minutes, I find myself trembling, but for different reasons now. I know I am losing. I am responding to his touch, and there's nothing I can do about it. "That's a good girl. Just relax. Let it happen." He encourages, speaking softly. I groan, this time from shame and defeat instead of pain. My entire body tenses and I clench my teeth as I ride it out, hating myself for every single second. He finishes at almost the same time, moaning in pleasure as he forces himself deeper into me. "Fuck, you're so tight. I knew you wanted this. This just proves it." He states, confident.

I can't find it in me to feel relieved as he pulls out and turns me around onto my back. I feel numb; defeated. I'm left questioning everything about myself, and what all of this says about me. The fact that I would say those things, that I would… would… _react_ to him in the way I just did. _What is wrong with me?_ In a matter of only a few hours, he has managed to take so much.

He gets off the bed, wiping himself off and pulling his clothes back on, seeming to forget about me on the bed. That's fine. Let him forget. I stare blankly into the ceiling, imaging myself up there again. _Maybe I'm really not the girl in the bed. Maybe I'm just a spectator to a horror show. This isn't me._

"I had fun, but I gotta go get some deals done, okay?" He seems to wait for a response that doesn't come. "Here, I'll make you feel a little better, but I can't fully trust you. You haven't proven that yet." He comes back toward me holding something in his hand, and fear flits through my heart.

He reaches up and unhooks my left wrist from the cuff, letting it drop against me. The pain is screaming inside my body, but I can't bring myself to care. He reaches down and grabs my underwear, pushing it up my legs, letting his hand linger against me a little too long. I am so sore, I can hardly stand the feeling of the cotton resting against me.

He goes into the bathroom, coming back with a blindfold, fastening it over my eyes. "There ya go. It'll be good for you to get used to relying on me, and not yourself. So get used to spending time in that. And if you use your hand to even touch that blindfold, you won't have a free hand again, got it? I'll know if you mess with anything." He is quiet for a moment. "Alright, you get some sleep. I'll probably be gone for a couple hours, and we've got work to do when I get back." I hear him grab his gun again as he heads for the door, letting it slam behind him.

 _Is it over?_ I should be looking for a way to escape, but I am afraid he will know. I don't feel present, anymore. The fuzzy feeling inside my head has gotten stronger, and the darkness makes me feel dizzy.

 _I miss my moms. I want to go home. I don't want to be here._ I feel tears making their way down my cheeks again. Shivering, I roll myself gingerly onto my right side, pulling my knees to my chest and crying out in pain as every move I make brings fiery pain to different parts of my body. I cradle my left arm against my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible.

 _This didn't happen. None of this really happened._


	4. Chapter 4

Stef POV

My mind is racing as I drive quickly through the night, tracing down my Callie. My girl. My sweet, troublesome girl, has made a desperate decision, with no idea that she is no longer in trouble; that she's not going to jail. She's chosen to take the place of another girl who changed her mind. She only thinks about helping everyone else, this decision she has made makes it clear that she still doesn't think she is worth anything at all. I rub my forehead in frustration. If she had just waited, if she had just _told me_ what was happening. I could've helped that girl, and Callie would be home safe. It is so disheartening that after all this time, she still feels she has to take on the world by herself.

I'm grateful for her quick thinking of the cell phone, but god only knows what could go wrong before I find them. I'm sure he has a weapon. I know what this man is capable of. He has already murdered young girls, and if he finds out she's the daughter of a cop? I feel on the verge of vomiting. My stomach is in knots as I get closer to the GPS of Callie's phone, and they turn off the highway.

The car parks at a trashy house in a cul-de-sac, and my backup arrives at nearly the same time. We are inside the house within minutes, guns raised, but I am looking for only one thing: My daughter. Sweeping through the house, the woman refuses to give us a straight answer, and I find Callie's phone inside a duffel bag filled with cash.

 _Oh, Callie. Oh, no. No, no, no._

I am in the woman's face immediately, demanding answers she is unwilling to give. I don't have time for this. I leave her to my coworkers and head out the door, Mike hot on my heels. "Stef, hold up, what are you doing? Where are you going?" He yells. "I'm going to find my daughter, Mike." I shout behind me. "Stef, just hold on! We have no idea where she is, driving around aimlessly isn't going to help us and you know it. Come on. Lets head back to the station, we can talk with Christina and Daphne again. We can go through Diamond's file. She gave us a lot of info on this guy, I'm sure we can find something useful and track him down."

I know he's right. But doing anything but driving and looking for her feels like I am letting her go. A thought flits through my mind that I instantly rebuke.. _What if she is already gone?_

It's been several days, and we are still pouring over this file, trying to peel this case apart and find this son of a bitch. We've got cops out everywhere, trying to track down leads, anyone who saw anything, showing her picture to all we come across. We can't do this as transparently as we normally would, because we are desperately trying to withhold the information that she is a cop's daughter, knowing that this will mean life or death for Callie. We are hoping he hasn't found this out already, and I'm praying that Callie has kept up the guise of being Christina.

We have been taking areas that Diamond has been picked up in before, looking within a 10 mile radius of that for cheap motels, abandoned areas. As these continue turning up as dead ends, we continue expanding the search, trying to find anywhere this guy may be hiding out or visiting. Quite honestly, we are desperate, and we are no closer than we were the first hour she went missing.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't know how much time has passed. All I know is my tears have dried and I don't think there are any more left inside me.

I haven't moved a muscle, but the pain has gotten worse. Everything hurts; everything is throbbing. I can still feel the ghost of his hand on my throat. I feel very cold, and cannot stop trembling.

I reach over with my left arm to grab one of the pillows nearby to put against me, something to make me feel warmer. The pain that shoots through my arm at the movement makes me immediately drop it back down, gasping. I'll stay cold.

I pull myself into a tighter ball and squeeze my eyes closed. _I'm okay. Nothing is real. This is just a nightmare._

I don't realize I have drifted into some form of waking-unconsciousness until I jolt at the sound of the door opening and slamming shut. My heart is pounding, fear flooding my pain-ridden body, and I am temporarily confused about what is happening. _Why is it still so dark with my eyes open? What is on my face?_ Too quickly, I remember what is happening.

"There are fuckin' cops all over the place right now! I don't know who did what, but it's messing with my game and I'm not cool with that." Russell is setting his things down on the table, sounding agitated and hyped up. He walks over to me, untying the blindfold. I blink at the sudden light. "We're just gonna have to lay low in here until everything calms down out there."

 _My mind is swirling. Cops? Stef? How long has it been? Has she figured it out? Is she close to finding me? Is she going to come? Does she know where I am?_ I feel hope flare up inside me, mixing in with fear. My shaking increases.

Russell kneels next to me, and I try to lean away from him without moving my body. I just want to be left alone. "You cold, baby? I was gone longer than I thought I would be. I'm sorry." He stands back up and walks over to the curtain, pulling it back slightly as he glances out. "I swear I got a weird feeling about all this cop bullshit." I notice the sky looks lighter. Dawn. Or dusk? _How long have I been here? How much longer will I be here?_

He turns around and comes back to me. This time I let myself really look at him; the way he's acting. The twitchiness, the agitation. He's high. I've seen it enough times before. I feel the hope drain from me. If he's high, he's probably just paranoid. There probably aren't even that many - or any - cops out. I close my eyes, willing myself not to care about what happens to me anymore.

"Come on, you probably gotta use the bathroom now. Let me get that other wrist." He reaches toward my arm and I flinch back as though I've already been struck. Instinct. He doesn't even seem to notice. He frees my wrist and points at the bathroom. "Go. You don't close the door, and you come right back and get on the bed. This is where you're gonna stay at all times. Got it? What you're good for is being on this bed, and that's it. Don't try to pull any stupid shit - you'll regret it." I know he is right.

I try to refrain from letting my face show the amount of pain I'm in as I try to stretch out my legs, get off the bed, and walk. I've been beaten within an inch of my life before, but I'm not sure I've ever felt quite this bad. I make it to the bathroom and onto the toilet. I pee for what feels like hours, and when I go to flush, I'm horrified at the fact the toilet is filled with red water. Blood. Bile rises rapidly in my throat, and before I know it, I'm puking.

I sit there for a minute, wiped out, before I rinse my mouth with sink water and make my way back. I put on the bravest face I can as I crawl back onto the bed, my body screaming. I am still shaking. _Do not show weakness,_ I think, as I try unsuccessfully to control my shivering.

"You still cold, huh?" Russell comments as he gets up from his chair and moves toward me. I shake my head rapidly, immediately regretting the movement as an intense headache hits me. "I-I'm okay." I nod. I don't want him near me.

He stops short of the bed, staring. I'm uncomfortable in his gaze, still basically naked, and scoot myself back a bit. "I can warm you up, it's no problem. We don't have a lot of time before we need to get some deals done, but I can be fast.."

He takes a slow step forward and I find myself feeling like a trapped deer. There is nowhere for me to go, and the look in his eye is that of a predator. "I'm okay." I say again, more forcefully. He smirks. "Oh, you're better than okay. Here. Let me warm you up, baby." He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it behind him, unbuckling his pants and letting them drop.

I try to swallow down my fear. He starts climbing onto the bed and I hold out my arm, praying he will stop this time. "Please don't." I whisper, sounding more like a question than a command. "Aw, it's okay Christina, remember how good it felt last time?" My stomach churns at the thought.

He grabs my outstretched hand, pulling me toward him as he wraps an arm around my waist. I try automatically to pull back against him, but he stops pulling me toward him and uses my actions to push me backward, my head ricocheting off the wall as I fall. I cradle my head in my hands, momentarily stunned into stillness. He grabs my hands, cuffing them while I weakly attempt to recover.

I am crying again, pleading with him to stop. He slaps me, hard enough that I see stars. "What did I tell you about your goddamn whining? That's enough! Jesus!" He tightens the cuffs harder against my wrists, and I draw blood biting my tongue to keep from crying out.

He gets off the bed, agitated, and immediately lights up a cigarette. My blood runs cold as I realize my mistakes. "No, please! I'm sorry! Please, I won't do it again, I'm sorry!" I'm yelling, desperate for mercy I know won't come. He slinks over, cocky. "If you scream or make any noise from this, I will take you outside the city and kill you. They will never find your body." He explains, his dark eyes letting me know he is serious. I clench my teeth together, preparing for the pain. He grinds the cigarette out on my arm, unrelenting. A small groan is all that escapes me as I attempt to suffer quietly through the pain.

He pulls back, walking over to the table again. I try to focus on my breathing, relieved it is over. Almost instantly, I hear the lighter flick. My heart seizes in my chest. I open my mouth to protest - only to close it instantly. "Ah, looks like someone is learning." He smiles, amused, watching the emotions play over my face. "I heard you tell me to stop at least 4 times. So we will go with 5 punishments, just to make sure." He speaks before taking a quick drag, and I feel sick as I watch the end burn bright. He presses it into my neck, and I nearly do scream this time, pulling down on the cuffs in an attempt to stifle the burning pain with a different one. He repeats the process 3 more times, creating more wounds on both of my arms.

I am so light-headed that I can hardly focus, and part of me is positive I am going to pass out. He climbs onto the bed with me, seeming frantic now; more aggressive. He reaches down and yanks at my underwear. He pushes his fingers inside me, rough, and I think I am bleeding again. I still feel so nauseous and faint that I don't even attempt to fight him, focused only on not passing out. He grips my waist tightly, positioning himself and thrusting into me at the same time he roughly yanks my waist down, the result a brutal meeting of flesh. I feel a sickening pop in my wrist as it is pulled too far against unrelenting metal, and my vision tunnels immediately.

The pain in my right wrist is almost equivalent to the pain between my legs. He is laying bites on my shoulders, my breasts; hard enough to break skin. He seems to try to pull me further down the bed again, and the strain on my wrists reaches an unbearable peak. I am twisting my head and kicking my legs, desperate for a release from the pain in my wrists. This seems to get his attention, and he stops long enough to hit me again. Returning his hand to my tender throat, he solidly tightens his grip, depriving me of air. "What the fuck is your problem? Come on, it ain't that bad!" He loosens his grip a bit as he goes back to driving himself into me.

"My wrists. Please. Please. My wrists." I whisper as tears flood down my cheeks. He seems to realize what a mess my hands have become, then, and stops moving as he forces me to catch his eye. "If I take those off, you're not going to pull anything stupid. You'll be a good girl and do what I say, or I'll put you back in those cuffs and they won't ever come off. Understood?" I nod rapidly. Anything to stop the pain. He gets off me, grabbing a key from the table and coming back. I feel dizzy again as he un-cuffs my wrists, letting them drop, and I can't stop myself from crying in pain. I can hardly move them. I try to roll onto my side, automatically pulling my legs to my chest again.

Russell doesn't seem to notice, or care, but pulls my legs down and rolls me over onto my stomach, not hesitating at all as he shoves himself back inside me. He grasps my hair with his left hand as he pushes my face forward into the sheets this time, and wraps his other hand around my throat, tight and unforgiving. I can feel myself hyperventilating, the attempt to get in any air not working, and the inability to see making the pain of him significantly worse.

As he maintains his grip that deprives me of oxygen, I begin feeling weak. My heart rate feels slower. My head is full of painful pressure. White spots are flashing in my vision until static is all I can see.

 _Oh, god. I'm dying. I'm dying. I'm going to die with him on top of me. Mom. Momma. I don't want this to be the last thing I know._ I see Stef's face vividly in my mind. I see her telling me to fight. I stretch my arms out, reaching for anything. My vision begins to go completely black when the panic overtakes me entirely. I use my arms to reach up, grasping onto his hands. _Air, I need air. I'm dying, mom_ _._ The image of her face is fading in my mind, and I feel renewed panic. Don't leave me, please don't leave me.

I finally manage to dig my nails into his arms, hard. He yanks back, cursing, but all I can focus on is my gasping like a fish pulled onto land. I'm trying so hard to suck in all the air I've missed, my vision still blurry and spotty. I start coughing, gagging, when his hand comes down against my face like a brick. "You stupid BITCH! What the fuck did I tell you? Huh?" I try to apologize but find nothing comes out. I'm still gasping, hearing only wheezing and wondering if I am going to die anyway.

Russell is looking at his arm. The damage I made was minimal, hardly even noticeable, but he is angry just the same. I disobeyed. He grabs my wrists, roughly yanking them up and trying to cuff them. I can't let him do it; I will never get away if he does this. I pull against him, still fighting to be able to focus and breathe again. He lays his body fully down on mine, the weight effectively pinning me down as he grabs one wrist and gets it into the cuff. I am crying, now. It is over. He pulls my other wrist, cuffing it as well. He tightens both cuffs again, making them hurt just by existing, and the pain in my right wrist has come back with a vengeance. I feel like I may vomit.

He leans back off me, taking a deep breath. "Damn, you're stupid. I hope you like pissing on yourself cause you ain't getting off this bed or out of those handcuffs ever again. Cross me once, you don't get a second chance. You're just lucky I need to make something off you first, or you'd be eating lead right now." He hops off the bed, grabbing the blindfold and placing it back on me.

It's done. I'm trapped. I'm not getting away. I'm going to die here. I keep my eyes shut and try to will away the panic and intense waves of dizziness.

"Now, let's finish what we started, huh?" Russell whispers in my ear, grabbing me and yanking me down, purposefully stretching my arms. A sob escapes my lips, and he pushes back inside me. The pain seems to get worse each time. After a while, I feel him tense, and his actions get quicker. He leans down to grab my throat again, and even though he doesn't squeeze enough to cut off air, the panic blooms inside me as soon as his hand is put there.

He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me, and I won't be able to stop him this time. He begins squeezing too hard, and I try to focus on not letting the panic consume me.

I don't want to die afraid. God, please don't let me die afraid. It's okay. Everything's okay. My mom's love me. Remember my family. As the darkness of the blindfold seems to reach a new level of black, he suddenly makes one final, excruciating thrust, and drops onto my body, releasing his hand from my throat.

I'm not dead. I'm okay. Everything's okay.

"Man, you're so good. Even if you do got a little attitude. I like having to break in some girls. But not forever, so you better start learning." He reaches up to uncuff my left wrist, and for an instant I feel hope surge inside me. He rolls me over onto my back and re-cuffs me. My heart falls. I'm not getting out of here. Not alive, anyway. My body feels incapable of any movement. Drained of everything I have, both physically and mentally.

"Say thank you, daddy." Russell instructs. I feel myself fade out more. Callie is gone. "Thank you, daddy." I whisper, my voice rough from the battering my throat has taken. I can hear the smile in his voice as his hand is suddenly stroking my face, and I flinch violently. "That's a good girl." He leans down, holding my face gently and kissing me. While it doesn't hurt, I find the gentleness is almost as bad.

He pulls back momentarily. "Kiss me back, Christina. I shouldn't have to tell you that." Leaning back in, he deepens the kiss, his tongue probing inside my mouth, and I force myself to react. "Mmm." He mumbles appreciatively as he gets what he wanted, and I feel even more disgusting. This isn't happening to me. It's not me.

Finally, he pulls back for good. "See, this is what it can be like if you're good. It doesn't have to be so difficult. It can be really nice." He is quiet over me for a moment. I try to imagine that inside the darkness of the blindfold, there's a secret hole that I am in. _I'm not this girl. I'm watching, not experiencing._

He climbs off me and I hear him pad into the bathroom, starting up the shower. It is so silent in the room, I can hear my pulse in my ears. I feel the warmth between my legs; the blood I know has pooled beneath me.

I don't want to think about this, so I let myself detach further, trying to lose myself in my new place inside the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Callie POV

I hear the shower stop, and fear creeps back into my body, heightened by my lack of sight. He walks into the room, and I think he is talking, but I don't hear what he says. A knock on the door makes me jump. I hear Russell open it, greeting someone. _Who is this? Who's here? What's happening?_ I hear another male voice, now, coming closer. Russell and him are rowdy, making lewd remarks and talking money. Panic is setting in as I can only anticipate what is going to happen next.

"Christina, this is my boy Trey. I know you can't see him, but honestly that's not really important. You're gonna be good for him, you understand?" I am frozen, trembling. _This can't be real._ "I said, do you understand, Christina?" He asks, low and dark as he lays a hand threateningly across my throat. "Y-yes." I stutter. The hand slides away. "That's a good girl. I'll be back." I hear him leave, only to be replaced by his friend. It feels difficult to breathe, not knowing what is going to happen to me next.

"You're awful pretty, Christina. You look real young." A hand is placed on my cheek, causing me to wince. "Mm, we've only got an hour together, so let's make the best of our time." He states as I feel him crawl onto the bed, over me. He pulls me down against the cuffs, before pressing himself against my entrance. I whimper, not knowing how much more I can take. "Please don't do this. Please stop." I beg quietly, fearful of being burned, but hopeful that this new person may help me.

He unfastens the blindfold then, and as I get a look at his piercing, dark, eyes, I almost wish I was still in the dark. "You don't speak a word unless I tell you. And you sure as hell don't tell me to stop. Got it?" He is still poised over me, and I nod, closing my eyes as tears spill down my cheeks. He forces himself in, and it takes everything I have not to yell out. He is brutal, every action he takes is intended to bring me pain. He hits me, spitting in my face, squeezing my breasts as tightly as he can inside his fists. I groan in pain. He is so rough, and every time I think he is going to be done, he manages to contain himself to allow more time to hurt me.

Several times he reaches for my hands, trying to force the handcuffs tighter into my skin. He fastens the blindfold back around my face before reaching up to latch onto my throat, enjoying watching me struggle against the metal, in desperate need of oxygen. Each time I near passing out, he lets go. It is an endless cycle of feeling as though I'm about to die, and I'm amazed at how much panic my body manages to release each time. Finally, he finishes and climbs off me without another word. I hear him rummage around for a few minutes before the door opens and shuts.

I try to imagine I'm somewhere else again. Somewhere safe. I wonder how long I'm going to live. I try to burrow myself back into the darkness. I envision the real me there. Callie is in here, in this blindfold. She stays at the center of the black, safe and out of sight. She watches and hides, so she can't be hurt. All the good things are kept here. Stef is here. Lena is here. I sigh as I vividly imagine Stef here with me. " _You're okay, sweets." S_ he comforts, her hand rubbing up and down my back. I swear, I can nearly feel her.

I'm so detached from my surroundings that I don't even hear Russell come back until he speaks, causing me to jump. "Trey said you were an alright girl for him. But he said you told him to stop. I thought we went over the rules, Christina. Just because I'm not in the room, doesn't make them less valid." He sounds exasperated with me, and I feel my heart sink. I shouldn't have said anything. I knew better. Now I'm going to pay for it. I hear the lighter flick on, and can't stop the shaking in my body from fear of the pain I know is coming. "Do you just like being punished?" He asks, snubbing it out on my stomach, earning a gasp of pain from me.

He lights another cigarette. "That must be it. Tell me you like to be punished." I can hear the smirk in his tone. I say nothing. "Okay. You were going to get burned 3 times, but I guess now we will make it 4." He says casually. My heart skips as I rush to answer him. "O-okay. I like it - I like being punished." I say, hoping this will satisfy him. His only response comes in the form of a burn on my chest. "Only 2 more times." He says, turning around.

"Now, Trey did also say that after that, you were pretty good. So. You also get a bit of a treat." He speaks up, moments after he has finished with burning me. Somehow this proclamation doesn't make me feel at ease. He removes the blindfold, and I'm greeted with a syringe held up in front of me. "You're gonna like this. This is some good coke, ok?" My heart is thumping loudly in my ears. He climbs onto the bed with me, and I'm alive with panic. I have never done drugs. I've seen what they do to people, and I've always been a little afraid of them. "I'm okay." I say, hoarsely, instead of no.

"Yeah, baby, I know. You're gonna be even better once you get this, though. I promise. I'll help you out since you can't help yourself right now, since you got yourself in trouble and gotta be chained up like a damn dog." I shut my eyes tight before opening them again, realizing I can't do anything to prevent this. He reaches for my arm, feeling for a vein, and I'm having trouble quelling the panic that wants to burst forth. As he brings the needle closer and punctures the skin, I feel as though I'm going to explode. I close my eyes, willing my body to fight the drugs. He pulls back and cups my face in his hand, causing my eyes to fly open. "It's gonna be good. Don't worry!" He hops off the bed, going to the table as he empties more merchandise out of his pockets.

Within minutes, I know I'm affected. I feel on fire, every sense is heightened; and in the state I'm in, this is no blessing. My whole body is on fire. I feel fidgety, needing to jerk my arms against their restraints every couple minutes, regardless of the pain. My heart is racing, a beat nobody could keep up to. I want out of my skin. Russell has taken to watching videos on his phone and chattering incessantly to me about nothing that makes any sense.

I'm sweating, and all I seem to be able to think about is what he's going to do to me next. I wonder how he's going to kill me. Mixed in with this is immense shame at the disappointment I know Stef would feel if she knew I was on drugs right now. I try to retreat from my brain, but find the ability has disappeared. There is nowhere to go but here.

After what must be more than half a day, Russell seems to be keeping his own, pacing around the motel in only his jeans. He shot me up again a few hours ago, but my heart rate has slowed slightly, and the sweating has stopped. I still feel everything too powerfully, and the constant jerking of my arms has led to a continuous bleeding of my wrists, but I pray the worst of it is over. I have peed on myself, and the shame makes me feel like a child. The wet bed has gotten cold, and I try not to think about the fact that I'm laying in my own filth.

I'm distracted from my thoughts when Russell leisurely throws his phone across the room. Looking outside again, he exclaims he's bored and tired of being pent up in here, worried about cops. The mention of cops makes my heart splinter. It is dark outside. It is dark in here, as well. Russell only seems to keep on the dimmest light in the corner, and the shades are almost always drawn unless he is looking out. I wonder how long I've been here.

Russell turns around, looking at me. I avert my gaze immediately. _Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. Leave me alone. "_ What about you? You bored? I'm bored. We should do something new." My heart rate is picking up again, and this time I don't think it has anything to do with drugs. "I have an idea. You gotta stay like you are, though, so it could be awkward. But we can do it anyway, it's alright. You do something for me, and then I'll do something for you again!" He seems excited about this prospect, and I feel like I'm dying inside.

He takes off his jeans and boxers, climbing onto the bed with me. I'm so aware of his movements, it hurts. "You're gonna have to get used to this, too, so we should see how you do." He grabs my waist, and his touch burns my skin. I already know what is coming before he does it and brace myself as he yanks me down the bed, forcing the handcuffs tight and taut. My eyes are screwed shut, trying to get past the pain. He puts his knees on either side of my stomach, and I realize what he wants as he begins moving himself up my body, closer to my head. "N-" the word barely makes a sound as it comes out before I clamp my mouth shut, afraid of the consequences of saying no. It appears, though, that he doesn't even hear me.

"There is only one rule with this. Don't bite. You bite? You're dead. So keep those teeth away." He tangles one of his hands in my hair as he pulls my head forward, positioning himself over me. He begins putting himself in my mouth, and I'm overwhelmed at how difficult it is to breathe and not bite him. He pushes himself further in, and I begin gagging. I can't breathe. I try to shift my head to get free, but his grip in my hair keeps me still. I'm still retching, and start kicking my legs out. _I can't breathe._ "Relax, Christina. Chill. Breathe through your nose. Look." He forces himself further into my throat, and at the same time uses his free hand to pinch my nose shut. Instantly, I'm panicking.

"See, NOW you can't breathe." He releases my nose and I find a small amount of relief. He thrusts harder, gripping my hair hard enough to yank some out, before he finishes in my mouth. I'm gagging again, and he pulls out and immediately clasps my mouth shut, one hand holding my jaw, the other wrapped threateningly around my neck. "Swallow it. All of it."

I try to shake my head, but his vice grip allows no movement. I feel his hand closing around my throat, and I force myself to keep swallowing until it is gone, afraid he will take away my ability to breathe again. Finally, he forces my mouth open to check. "Good girl! You're so good." He leans down and kisses me before crawling off me. The taste of him lingers in my mouth, and my stomach is sour.

"I told you I'd give you something, so you want some water?" He motions at the bottle he's holding, and suddenly I realize how incredibly thirsty I am. My throat is raw. I nod. "Here, I'll help you." He lifts it, and I open my mouth as he pours barely enough to qualify as a sip. I'm thankful for something to try to erase the taste of him from my mouth, but my thirst is overwhelming.

"More? Please?" I question, quietly. "Nah. You've had enough." He dismisses. My heart sinks. I'm so thirsty. And my stomach hurts so much. He turns around, coming back at me with the blindfold, and I'm not sure whether to be relieved or terrified. Sometimes I can make myself disappear into the darkness, but the sensory deprivation makes my panic and pain so much stronger.

I try to resign myself to the situation as he tightens it against my head, settling for listening to his steps intently. He walks away and then back toward me, and I jump as he grabs onto my arm, the gentle prodding ringing familiar as I feel a pinch. "This will make you feel better." He reassures, patting my arm and walking away. Thick tears begin forming in my eyes, and all I can think is what I would give to never have to go through any of this ever again. _Maybe death wouldn't be so awful._

I hear him move toward the other bed before letting himself fall into it, sighing. I am not sure how much time has passed before I hear snores coming from his direction. It makes me realize that I don't think I have slept yet.. occasionally becoming less aware, but never truly falling asleep. The thought makes me think I should feel exhausted, but I'm so wired I can't even imagine sleeping. I need to stay aware. I'm sweating, my body like a furnace, and my arms pick up their jerking again. My heart is beating uncomfortably fast, and while I try to think about the safe place in the darkness, all I can really do is wonder if I'm going to have a heart attack.

It has been a long while when I finally feel myself coming down from the high. I'm having to fight against myself not to nod off into sleep, when there is a knocking on the door. Immediately, I am hyper-aware and alert. Afraid. Russell's snoring stops, but I don't hear him move. The knock sounds again, louder this time, and Russell finally stirs. My heart is pounding. _What time is it? Is it Stef? God, please be mom. Has she found me?_ Tentative hope makes its way into my brain.

Russell jumps up, cursing under his breath. I hear him pause at the door before opening it. I hear several feet this time, shuffling around, and more male voices fill the air, indistinguishable. The hope inside me is replaced with pure terror. I try not to make a sound, barely breathing, praying I'm not what they are interested in. They are all talking over one another, and it's difficult to track their conversation. There is no doubt they are getting closer to me, though, and it feels as if they're everywhere. I'm shaking again as fear settles strongly into my heart.

"You're gonna be good for us, Christina, right?" Russell murmurs, grasping onto my hands as he forces the cuffs impossibly tighter, and dread knots in my stomach. "Me and my buds just wanna have a little fun, and they're paying good money, so you better be a nice girl. It can be good for you, too, if you just relax." I feel several hands touch me in different areas of my body, and I automatically jerk away from them. I feel the bed dip with the weight of more bodies, and someone is pulling my legs towards them as someone else is grabbing onto my hair.

So many different things are happening at once, and I can't focus on anything except the panic inside me. Someone pushes themselves inside me, not even trying to be gentle, and I cry out. "I know how to keep her quiet." Another lewd voice says as my head is held tightly, and I feel him trying to enter my mouth. I clench my teeth, refusing to give him access. He keeps pulling and prodding to no avail, when suddenly he pinches my nose shut, and I realize I can't win this battle, either. I have control over nothing.

I hold my breath as long as I can before I finally have to part my mouth to suck in some air, and he takes this moment to grip my mouth, forcing it open and shoving himself in. I gag and try to pull back, but he holds my head tight against him. I pull my arms against the cuffs, ignoring the tearing sensation in my wrists.

Someone is still thrusting inside me, and I feel more mouths on different parts of my body, kissing, biting, prodding roughly at my most sensitive places. A large hand wraps around my throat and I'm thrust into an even deeper panic, already having difficulty breathing. I kick out my legs, trying to connect with anyone and get them away from me. Finally my head is released, and I gasp, still unable to breathe with the hand around my throat.

My groans of pain and panic fall together, and I feel something sharp prick my arm again. "Here you go, baby, this'll help you relax and enjoy this." Russell lays a kiss against my lips, and I realize he has shot me up again. The hand leaves my throat to trade places with the person who was inside me, several pairs of hands in so many places that I can't keep track. I feel my eyes become heavy against the darkness of the blindfold, and I stop pulling against the cuffs.

I thought I knew what to expect; the livewire feeling inside my body. But this is the opposite. It feels as though sleep has appeared from nowhere, determined to drag me under. I fight to move my limbs, trying not to give in to this incredibly heavy weight. The pain of the assault seems to dull, and I welcome the slight relief. Someone takes the blindfold off me, but I find I struggle to keep my eyes open, no longer able to fight against them at all. They reposition me, hurting me in ways I didn't think imaginable, in every place on my body they can. But I can't bring myself to do anything about it, fading out entirely at some points. I don't know how long I remain in this place for, but eventually each pair of hands retreats one by one, until I am left alone again.

I feel dull, numb. Dead. I wonder if this is what it feels like to die. I'd be okay with it. I let myself fully detach. After a while, I hear Russell from his chair. "I gotta go out baby, but I'll be back later, okay?" He strides over to me, placing the blindfold back on. I feel another sharp prick in my arm. He leaves the room without another word, leaving me behind to be drug under by the heaviness.

I lay there quietly, immune to any feelings as I slip into the void. I envision Jude in my mind, hugging Lena. She'll be there for him, now that I can't. I see Stef, too. I see the sadness in her eyes, and wish I could comfort her. She wants me to try, but I think I'm done trying anymore.

"S'ok, mom." I whisper into the darkness, before allowing myself to disappear.


	7. Chapter 7

-16 hours later-

Callie POV

The door slams shut, and I jump despite myself. I'm awake. Or at least, I'm aware. Kind of. I have been void of emotions, having been staring into the blackness of the blindfold for the past however many hours. But the sound of the door triggers adrenaline to course through my body, in fear of more men, more pain. I realize now the drug has worn off.

"Good news, didn't see a single damn pig out there!" Russell exclaims, throwing his stuff on the table. For a minute, I'm confused. _What do pigs have to do with anything?_ After a second, it dawns on me that he means cops. _Oh._ My heart sinks. _They're gone. I'm alone._ "You want some bread?" Russell unties the blindfold, and I blink against the sudden light. I nod. "I bet you're hungry, you haven't eaten shit. Just dick." He laughs hard at his joke, and I feel shame fill my body.

He pulls a loaf of bread out of a bag, taking out a slice and feeding it to me. I try to ignore this pathetic position I'm in, being hand-fed by this prick. It hurts so bad to swallow, I can't even finish half the slice. My agony is worse than my hunger. Russell shrugs, heading back to the table where he moves something around for a few minutes, before snorting a line of coke. My heart thuds painfully against my chest, praying he doesn't share this with me again. I have a headache from hell, and feel as though I could throw up any minute.

To my relief, he seems to have forgotten I even exist. He pulls out his phone and entertains himself on it for at least an hour before he suddenly rises and leaves the motel room again. I'm a little confused at this, but try not to care or think. I'm surprised he has left without blindfolding me. I take the opportunity to glance around. It is so dark and dim in here, but it always feels so bright compared to the pitch black behind the blindfold. I try to pull my hands out of the cuffs, pulling as hard as I can stand before gasping in pain and stopping.

If I could just get out of these, I could escape. I try again for several minutes with no success. I think about how close I am to the door… how close I am to freedom, and yet, I can't make it. The handcuffs are too tight, and I can feel the massive amount of swelling that has developed, only serving to dig the metal deeper into my skin. Blood is trailing down my arm again from my efforts to slip through them. My wrists are throbbing with a sort of ache that makes me sick to my stomach. Some time passes before the door is opened again, and it is only Russell who walks through, smoking a cigarette. There is relief, immediately followed by fear as he gives me a big smile.

"I got somethin' for us, baby." He strolls toward me, pulling a small bottle out of a bag. I don't know what it is, but my stomach churns anyway. _Please, no more. Please just leave me alone._ "Please, no." I croak, my voice seeming to be getting worse each passing hour.

This irritates him, and he walks slowly up beside me, shaking his head. "How many times do I gotta tell you, you need to erase the word 'no' from your vocabulary? Huh?" He mutters, grasping my arm and putting his cigarette out on it. The scream I release is immediately quelled by his hand smothering me. "Shut the fuck up. You know better, you know better than to do any of that." He replaces my blindfold, and I hear him rummaging around at the table. He approaches me again, and takes hold of my arm, the sharp pinch following quickly after.

I hear his clothing shed onto the floor. I realize he gave me the other drug this time, not the cocaine. My limbs hang heavily, my breathing and heart rate slowing with a calmness that in my heart, I do not feel. I feel him climb onto the bed, and I try to pretend I don't exist. _I'm not here. This is not me. This is someone else._ He grabs me and flips me over, painfully twisting my arms again, and I gasp in pain. I hate this way. I am smothered against the bed. He yanks me down, and I feel another pop in my wrist as my scream is muffled into the bed. He positions himself at my entrance, laying his weight on me as he pushes into me. I distantly wonder if this will ever not hurt worse each time.

He's littering bite marks across my back again, and I find myself detaching further. I welcome the hollow feeling. He puts his hands in my hair and forces my head down against the bed. I find my brain wandering. _I'm not here anymore. It's okay. Callie is dead._ As his pace increases, I know what to expect, but can't bring myself to care. Suddenly, he pulls out of me and releases my head. I'm snapped back into the moment. _This is different. Different is bad. What is happening._ I lift my head pointlessly, unable to see anything regardless of where I look, but I can't stop the need to try to know what is happening. He is leaning back, that's all I know. He grabs my waist and tries to yank me down again, impossibly so. I groan loudly through the pain in my wrists, feeling as though I may pass out. "Sorry baby, I just gotta make sure you're good and held down for this one. It'll be okay."

He lays a hand down on my low back, pushing me against the bed, and I feel the panic slowly attempting to course through my veins, warring with the drug. I feel him position himself behind me in a different place, and my heart seizes in my chest. _No, no, no, you can't do this. Don't do this, please don't do this._ He starts trying to push into me, and the force he's using causes a horrible tearing sensation. "Please, stop. Please. Please." I'm begging, unable to care about the consequences. A sob catches in my throat. He eases back and for an instant, I think he's listening. Until he steps off the bed, and I hear his lighter flick as he lights a cigarette. _God, no. No._ "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please!" I rush, panicked.

He chuckles, crawling back onto the bed, tossing the cigarette pack down beside me. I hear him inhale deep, and then feel the searing heat burning into my shoulder. Just when the pain begins to ebb, turning into a burning throb, I hear the lighter flick again. He puts this one out on my neck, and the pain is excruciating. My sight blurs, and I feel lightheaded. "One more time, babe, to catch up on all your bad decisions." He says, laughing, before lighting one more cigarette. This one he puts out right next to the previous one on my shoulder. I am openly weeping, now, not even trying to hold back my tears.

Finally, he stops. I hear the pop of something opening. "I got some lube for this to make it easier for you. I don't do this for everyone, so you should be grateful. He starts pressing into me again, and I have to bite the sheets on the bed to try to keep from screaming as he begins giving ruthless thrusts to force himself further in. Blood is streaming heavily down my arms, heavier than before, but I hardly notice. As he manages to bury himself inside, he immediately lays himself onto my body and remains still as I cry loudly, panting wildly for breath, in too much pain to care.

He lays gentle kisses on my cheek before brushing my hair to the side. My heart feels cold, but my body is on fire. "Shhh, it's okay baby. You'll get used to it. The first time's the hardest." He continues stroking my face, cooing at me and giving light kisses on my back and neck. My body begins to feel as though I'm being pulled under a heavy current, and I can do nothing to stop it from taking me under. Tears stream quietly down my face as I hiccup every now and then. He starts pulling himself out to push back in, and I am no longer able to make a sound. I feel him tensing, picking up speed. He pulls out of me, and I find I feel too relieved to be concerned about what it means. Before there is time to think, he flips me onto my back, pushing himself back inside me again. It hurts, but less than what he had been doing. One hand grips my hair, the other wraps around my throat, too tight. _Why is he doing this to me?_

 _God, let me die. I don't want to live like this. This hurts too much. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ I try to picture my moms, my family. Love. Safety. Kindness.

Finally he moans and finishes, his grip in my hair relaxes, but around my throat remains tight. Even in the darkness, my vision has blurred, the pressure in my head too much, and spots dance all along my vision. I don't want to die afraid, but it turns out it's impossible not to panic when you are facing death. I try to pull harder than I have against the cuffs, but judging by the heaviness in my bones, I doubt if I hardly even move them.

I was wrong. I want to survive. Everything is hazy and fading. There is ringing in my ears, and I almost think I hear my momma. I feel calmness wash over me at the thought. I see them in my mind. They tell me they love me. _I love you, too. I don't want to do this, anymore._ There is a loud ringing in my ears, and my arms slacken against the metal as darkness engulfs me.


	8. Chapter 8

One week after

Stef POV

It is nearing 01:00 when Lena calls my cell. "Hey, love." I say tiredly. We both haven't been sleeping worth shit. Every waking minute we have is spent wondering, tracking, and trying to find our Callie. Lena is off for the summer, and stays at the house pretty much non-stop in hopes that if Callie gets away, she will find her way home and someone will be there, or at the least she can call home. So far, nothing.

Jude is staying with my mom. Mariana and Jesus are at their separate summer schools, and Brandon is at Juliard. They are all worried sick as us, but there's nothing they can do here to help. "Hey hun. Why don't you come home? You need to rest for a few hours, at least." Lena trails off. It's all she can do to drag me home most nights, and while I know she doesn't want me to stop looking, there's no way I can be doing good work when I am this exhausted.

"Sure… um.. I'm just looking over this one paper, okay? Then I'll be home. I love you." Lena sighs, probably knowing I'll stay here for more than one paper. "Okay. I'll see you at home." She responds before hanging up.

* * *

Lena POV

I sit down on the bed, head in hands, crying. We haven't had even an ounce of luck looking for Callie, and it's creeping into my mind that we truly may never find our daughter again. She may be dead. Or alive, with God knows what happening to her. No matter how I looked at it, it was awful.

* * *

Stef POV

An hour later, I came in the door, my aura saying everything. No new leads. No news. No Callie. I smile weakly at Lena before embracing her, holding each other together as best we can. I set my stuff down, sitting into a kitchen chair as my mind does what it has done every single night I come home for the week; wonder where she is. What is happening to her. If she's afraid. If she's even alive. Before I know it, I'm weeping. I've failed our girl. I can't find her. Nothing we are doing is working.

The failure and overwhelming sadness weighs heavy in my heart, breaking me down. "Oh, babe." Lena whispers, wrapping her arms around me and laying a kiss on my head. "We will find her. We will bring her home. We won't stop until we do." I nod. I know I will search for her every single day for the rest of my life, if that's what it takes. I can't let her go. I won't.


	9. Chapter 9

Callie POV

I open my eyes, absorbing everything incredibly fast. Russell must be in the shower, I hear it running. I'm alive. _I'm alive?_ I thought I was dying. My heart is racing, too quickly to keep up with, and it is hot, so hot in this room. My body feels as though every one of my nerves is on end. The pain is overwhelming. Everything seems intense, and I swear I can feel the panic circulating through my body. Sweat is dripping down my forehead, I can feel it. This is when I realize he must have shot me up me again. My fear gets worse, and I know I'm breathing too fast.

I hear the shower shut off, and wait in anticipation for him to come into the room. _What mood will he be in? What time is it? How long have I been here? Was I asleep?_ He wanders out into the room, a towel wrapped around him, immediately looking at me. His eyes brighten as he meets mine. "Hey! I'm glad you're awake! Sorry, I guess I kinda made you pass out earlier." He lets out a small chuckle. "I get really into it sometimes. Sorry 'bout that. But I gave you some good stuff to wake you up and decided to let you see for a while, to apologize for that." The only response in the quiet room is a jerk of my arm, the light clang of metal on metal. He smiles and goes back to getting ready.

My mouth is so dry. _How long have I been out_? "Time?" I ask, my voice coming out raspy and cracking. "10am." Russell answers without even turning around. My arm jerks involuntarily again, and I become aware of the sweat mixing with blood on my arms. "Look, your high is probably gonna wear off within the hour, so enjoy what you can, I need to go get some supplies for some things we are gonna do later, ok?" I know I have fear written all over my face. The thought of anything more happening is unbearable. As he walks toward me, both arms jerk and I flinch backward as he leans down, brushing my hair out of my face. "Calm down, I won't hurt you." He grabs the blindfold, fastening it over my face again.

He pulls his hands back and stands there silently. I can feel his presence, but I can't see anything. _What is he doing? What is he planning_? Suddenly I feel his hand on my face, and I jerk back again. He holds on and kisses me. He pulls back, standing quietly. The anxiety I feel is eating me alive. My arm jerks painfully. I feel his hand graze my stomach as he continues moving it lower. He pushes 2 fingers into me, and I twist my legs, trying to stop him from having access. He grabs my leg roughly, pinning it down with one hand, fingering me with his other hand.

"I wonder how much you can fit, what do you think?" I whimper slightly. "Pl-" I cut myself off, highly aware of what will happen if I plead with him. He pushes a 3rd finger in, twisting them around inside me. I feel him trying to force in a 4th, and I struggle against him. "Hold. Still. _Now_." He growls. I am in no position to fight, and I know it. I force myself to stop, to allow him to do what he wants. He keeps pushing, pulling, and I can feel warmth between me again. After a few minutes, he quits, withdrawing his hand and turning around to light a cigarette. My heart races.

"Don't think I didn't hear you start to tell me to stop. Maybe a few more lessons and you'll get it completely." He says, stoic. I know what is coming and yet the pain still takes me by surprise as he puts out one, then two, cigarettes out on my left arm. I grit my teeth against the pain, forcing myself to breathe and deal with it without saying a word.

"Good girl. You'll learn soon enough. I'll be back." With that, the door slams and I am left to my dark silence.

* * *

6 hours later

The door opens, and I hear Russell and another man, which causes my entire body to stiffen. "Hey, Christina! I brought a friend back. You've been doing pretty well, so it's time to make things official." Russell sounds.. excited? I hear him shuffling things around, and my nerves are starting to get the best of me. I hear him and his friend discussing some things that don't really make sense, but it's obvious they've got some kind of equipment with them.

Russell comes over to me, turning me over onto my stomach without even trying to be gentle. I let out a whimper, partly from pain, partly from fear. I still have no idea what's happening. All of a sudden there is a loud sound, sort of a rough buzzing. "You need to hold completely still for this, or you'll fuck it up, and I will be beyond pissed if that happens. If you don't hold still, I promise you I will put an entire pack of cigarettes out on you within' 10 minutes. Understood?" I nod, panic swelling inside me.

Russell places his hands against my back, pressing me down into the bed. The buzzing sound gets closer to my head, and I find myself crying, not knowing what's about to happen. Suddenly there is a sharp stinging sensation in my right shoulder. As I feel the pain slowly being moved around, I finally realize what's happening: they're tattooing me. I have no idea what it may be of, and I try very hard to push it out of my brain, to ignore the feeling that I am being branded. I try to simply focus on stoically bearing the pain. Which, given the things I've been through so far, this doesn't hurt nearly as bad. My tears are less because of pain, and more because of what the action itself represents.

After 30 minutes, they stop, both pleased with their work. "Alright, Christina. Looks like you're ready to go. No denying where you belong, now." Russell spits out, proud of himself.

* * *

1 month later

The days have been passing in a blur. I can no longer tell when it is day or night, The blindfold having remained in place for too long, now. It feels as though I've been here for months, but I'm not sure if that's true. Time drags so slowly. I have trained myself to almost feel nothing emotionally, now; panic and fear are some of the only things that seem able to reach me. I spend most of my time wondering when I'll die, nearly hoping for it at this point. I am desperate to be done with this. Sometimes I hallucinate that Stef is with me.. It's so real I can almost feel her hand ghost gently across my back, comforting me, telling me she's here.

It's the only time I cry.

Men come in and out on a constant basis. I don't know how many, or how often. I just know it's too much. I've at least reached a point where I don't think they can come up with anymore ways to torture me. If I act up too much, I get dosed with whatever it is he gives me that makes me feel heavy and unable to move. Everything gets slow and numb. But still, everything hurts. I've lost count how many cigarettes my body has snuffed out; my legs, my arms, my back, my chest, my neck - twice.

I haven't been off the bed since when I went to the bathroom the first time, and I've just been laying in my own filth, including vomit. Russell finally pulled the sheet out from under me, which got rid of most of it, but days of blood and urine have all returned. I have a constant tremble that I can't explain, and I stopped being able to feel my hands a long time ago. I almost enjoy the feeling of the cocaine in my blood, now. It makes me feel stronger than I am anymore; able to fight back when needed. It makes me feel less helpless. While I don't really _want_ the coke, I can't deny that I somehow feel better when I'm on it. I'm overwhelmed with shame about this, knowing how disappointed Stef would be in me.

The only time sleep really exists is whenever he has given me the other drug, and I go into some form of unconsciousness for a few hours. I hate that drug more than anything. He only uses it to gain control over me, to be able to force me to do whatever he wants without me being able to fight him or anyone else. Not even the numbness and detachment that come with it are worth the feelings of helplessness I have on it.

He seems to give me a slice of bread about once a week, although I don't usually finish it. Once I got to the point of being so hungry that I dry-heaved, I haven't felt that hungry since then. I get a few sips of water every few days, but my throat is raw and my words don't come out right anymore. It's a very rare moment when I try to say anything anymore, unless I am forced to. It hurts too much.

Russell has left again, and that's the only hint I have that it's probably day time. I think that is when he leaves the most. I'm lying on the bed, trying to wiggle my fingers just to see if I can. I'm focused on this, although it's not going well. I think I hear shuffling, and my pulse picks up. It is the worst when there are a lot of them. _God, please don't let him bring back more._ I silently pray. I don't hear anything more for a while, so I allow myself to drift in and out. Here, but not. I wonder if it's possible for my body to hurt any more than it does. Probably not. I've rolled myself as much onto my side as possible, knees pulled to chest. With both hands still cuffed, it's not comfortable, but it makes me feel less exposed.

I think I hear noises outside again, but it's hard to say. I wonder when he'll be back. I hate the darkness this blindfold causes me right now, how even when I open my eyes, it is as though they're closed. It's making me feel trapped. I decide to distract myself by pondering what happened to my phone, where it went. Bet it went somewhere better than here. But then again, it's a phone, so it probably doesn't care. I chuckle, and am immediately disturbed by the sound. _What is happening? I'm losing it. I'm actually losing it._

I hear a louder sound come from outside, and I am instantly distracted and tuned in to whatever it may be. _Is Russell back? Are there more people?_ My heart is in my throat. Suddenly, there is a loud slam into the door, and I am sent straight into panic as I instinctively jolt and try to sit up, pulling harshly against the cuffs and gasping from the screaming pain inside them. I am trapped. I let myself fall back down, pulling my knees toward my chest again, trying to make myself as small as possible. It is silent, but I can feel the presence of people. _This must be one of his tricks._


	10. Chapter 10

One month later

Stef POV

I am at work - as usual - scouring over every inch of everything I've already read, when we get word that a store owner has made an ID on Russell. My heart soars. This is the first legitimate lead we have had. I'm trying to keep my hopes from climbing too high, but it's impossible. He claims he had seen Russell a few days before, seeming antsy and suspicious. He came in and purchased a bottle of water, lube, and insulin needles. I try to stop my mind from wandering, imaging what these items mean, feeling sick as I wonder if Callie was involved. _Focus, Stef. Focus._

The owner saw him walk across the street and around the corner. This could not be better for us. If he walked to this store, he is clearly staying somewhere in the vicinity. My heart is nearly racing out of my chest. "We need to tone down obvious law enforcement presence in the area. Last thing we need is for him to get spooked and take off." I let Mike know. "Already on it." He replies. I hurriedly print out a list of motels near that store, starting from the bottom up.

It is now nearing dawn, and we think we are on the right track. A motel manager said Russell has rented a monthly room with him every few months for years, and he has been in the current room for a month and a half. The timeline adds up exactly with how long Callie has been gone. Mike and I are set up in an undercover unit across the street from the motel, in a parking lot. We've been here for 3 hours. It has taken Mike talking me down from the ledge several times as I've nearly gone rogue, wanting nothing more than to bust into that motel room and find my daughter. I've called Lena to let her know we finally have something solid, something that may lead us to her. But there has been no movement from the room.

We need to scope it out, be sure it is Russell, and be sure that when we take him down, we aren't endangering Callie. If she is even still with him. That's the other possibility. He could have traded her, sold her. She could be in another state at this point. Another country, even. I swallow down the lump in my throat. No. She will be here, and we will get her. She will be okay. I will make sure of it.


	11. Chapter 11

Callie POV

"Callie?"

My heart nearly stops. _How does he know that name? I am not her, anymore._ The fear inside me has grown, spreading into every nerve, affecting every part of me. I can feel him coming closer.

"Callie."

The voice is too close, and I can hear many male voices murmuring, more than I have heard before. _Oh, god. They're going to hurt me again. This is a trap. He's brought in someone else to hurt me. I can't let them do this._ I'm laying quietly, trying to avoid detection, but I know it's too late. _I have to get out, I have to get away._ I feel him come closer, hear the voices of the other men, and I can't stand it anymore. Something inside me snaps.

I yank forward, thrashing violently against my restraints, pulling with all my might. I'm screaming from the pain - sobbing - but I can't stop. _I can't stop. I can't stop. I can't stop._ I hear people shouting, and my panic consumes me further. He will kill me for this. I have to get free. I _have_ to. I fall partially off the bed, the handcuffs letting me hang just out of reach of the floor, all of my weight on my wrists. I keep struggling, now because of the excruciating pain, desperately needing it to stop.

I hear someone sobbing loudly as I force all my weight against my wrists. In some corner of my mind, I think it might be me. I feel hands on my body - too many - all over, and I know that if I don't escape now, I'm dead. I kick my legs as I fiercely renew my struggle. Some part of me is aware that these people keep saying her name; keep calling for a girl that isn't even here anymore. For some reason, this makes me panic more. I feel my foot connect with someone before hands hold them tight, ending my struggle. _No, no, no, no, no_. I can't lose this time.

Suddenly I am dropped onto the bed, and the hands disappear. This relief is mixed with confusion and fear, the panic never leaving. I thrust my arms down without hesitation, desperate to no longer be restrained. My left arm is pulled roughly through the cuff, freedom and searing pain striking me at the same time. I don't have time to process. Need to keep trying. My success with my left arm starts a frenzy inside my head, and I feel dizzy with the fact that I've managed to get partially free. I immediately turn myself around, using my body weight to pull against the only thing keeping me here, now: the handcuff over my right wrist.

There are hands on me again, and I try to use my left arm to fight back, striking at them. I feel someone on the bed with me, moving behind me. I get in several more solid jerks in an attempt to free my wrist, but I am still chained. Within seconds, several hands grab onto my legs, pulling me toward the headboard and keeping me from moving backwards. Someone moves behind me, wrapping their arms around my body, pinning my left arm down to my side. I am shaking violently. It's over. It's done. I've lost.

A few hands come off me, as the other's grip tighter. My breath is coming in pants, my fight or flight instinct well intact and still flooding my body. I feel a sheet settle lightly over my body, and it causes me to flinch. Someone is fumbling with my blindfold, and I jerk my head away from their touch. After a moment, the blindfold falls off, and it is blindingly bright, brighter than I ever remember it being. I vaguely see myself still attached to the headboard, and I try pulling back again in a last ditch effort to free myself. But someone is gripping my arm now, not allowing my movement to be completed.

My heart is pounding so loudly in my ears, I can hardly hear anything else. But then I do. I hear a softer voice, close to my ear. "Shhhh, sweets, shhh." My eyes are darting everywhere, blinking rapidly against the light as I'm trying to take everything in. There are men holding onto me. I don't know these people. I see mouths moving, but no words reach me. The hands holding my right arm move toward my wrist, and I take the opportunity to pull back, fighting to release myself, afraid he is going to make it tighter.

"Oh, baby, no. No, sweets, it's okay, let us help you. It's okay" My arm is pushed forward again, restricting my movement, and I see another hand reaching for my wrist. I try to twist out of their arms, pushing roughly back against the person behind me. I can't let them recuff me. I can't. I'm almost free. I have to try. I can get out of this, I know I can.

I am pushed forward toward the headboard again, and someone clasps large hands over my eyes, effectively taking away my sight. I jerk my head, whimpering. I try to get them off me, but they hold firm. "Easy, Cal, take it easy baby. Mommas here. We're going to help you." The words enter my brain, but do not process. I give immediate pushback, attempting to pull my arm free, but the hand holding it still has it's grip, and I can't move it. "We're going to get it off, let us get it off you." I'm temporarily distracted by this voice. It sounds different than I remember, but recognition suddenly stirs powerfully within me.

My distraction allows enough time for several things to happen at once: my legs are let go, the hands covering my eyes disappear as my right arm is released, and I hear metal clanging. The recognition that they're trying to secure me tighter hits me, and I yank my arm back to stop them. My arm shoots back this time, free. _I'm free. I'm free, I did it_.

I start trying to move, but the person behind me is still there, and wraps their arms around both my arms now, keeping them at my side. Part of me wants to fight the constricting arms, but I am so overwhelmed and confused that I can't seem to make myself react. I blink painfully against the light, distantly acknowledging that the door is open and the curtains have been pulled back, allowing daylight to enter. My eyes dart around the room, noticing there are far fewer men around. Only two. One looks familiar. I feel afraid of them, though. I am scared of what they might do to me.

The person behind me says something that I don't let sink in, but one of the men steps into the other room, and the other draws the curtain halfway before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

I'm not sure what's happening. My pulse has slowed slightly, and my breath comes a little easier. Feelings of pain are pushing through my adrenaline now, and it is some of the most excruciating pain I've felt so far. I am confused. I don't know where Russell is. Or who is holding me. Or why.

The person behind me eases away slowly, releasing my arms and rubbing their hand gently up and down my back. "I'm here, sweets. I'm right here. You're safe now." I hear her voice; I feel the comfort it brings, but as her hand grazes one of the burns on my back, I flinch and scoot slightly away.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't touch you anymore, okay? I'm just going to sit right here with you." She moves up the bed into my line of vision, but I find myself only being able to stare at the amount of blood in front of me. It is all over the pillows, the sheets, even the walls. I notice my hands, then. Blood is streaming steadily from both of them. I let myself detach. _This isn't my blood. That's not mine._

The woman leans further into my line of view, trying to catch my eye. "Hey, baby, look at me. I want you to look at my face, okay? Focus on me." I let my gaze shift toward her, still feeling detached. I meet her eyes. I see tears on her cheeks, and something inside me wants to comfort her. "That's my girl, keep looking at me. We are going to get through this, okay?" I let myself be drawn slowly back into this moment. "I love you, sweets. I love you so much."

 _Oh_ , my brain clicks. _My mom_. _My mom?_ "Mom?" I croak, and she looks like she is going to collapse as she nods and more tears escape her eyes. "Yes, sweet girl. I'm here." Everything seems so slow to connect inside my brain, and I glance around the room again. "Russell." I whisper, hoping she understands. "We have him in custody, Cal, he's not here. He's never going to come near you again." She tries to catch my gaze, but I just nod.

My whole body is hurting. My wrists. _Oh, god, my wrists._ "Do you want to move off the bed?" She questions. I shake my head. While I don't want to stay here, I can't bear the thought of moving any part of my body right now. "Okay. No worries. We will just sit here and wait for the ambulance, ok?" I turn my head toward her "Amb'lance?" I murmur.

"Yes, we need to get your injuries treated, baby, they will be here in just a minute." I look back around, letting my sight land on the blood and letting myself detach again. I think Stef is talking to me, but it doesn't enter my brain. The pain has fully engulfed my body, and I don't want to be back in this moment yet.


	12. Chapter 12

Stef POV

Finally, there is movement, but not from the room. It appears he had already been out and was returning, as we hear another undercover unit take him into custody a few blocks away. Mike and I are close behind, and I'm immediately crouched down in front of him "Where's the girl?" I ask, demanding.

While we suspect Callie is still with him, we don't know this for a fact. "What are you talkin' about, bitch?" He spits out at me. His disrespect doesn't faze me in the slightest. I have only one thought in my mind, and that is to find my daughter. "Who is in that motel with you?" Worry is building inside me. _Oh, god. What if she isn't even in there._

"What does it matter to you, huh? Why you care so much what I been up to? You interested in me or something?" He gives me a smirk, winking. I don't have time for this bullshit. I get right into his face. "You're going to tell me right now who is in that motel, and what their names are. If you choose not to, we will make sure that every single person in prison hears that you snitched on people. Got it?" My voice is cold and quiet. This grabs his attention.

"Jesus, you psycho. Fuck. It's just been me and my girl." My heart drops. "What's her name?" Part of me is fearful to hear the answer, the other part is hopeful. "Who cares?" He spits again. "What. Is. Her. Name?" I spit right back at him. "Fuck. Christina. I ain't got no last name, so don't go flippin." He's still talking, but I'm already gone, running back to the motel with Mike and several officers hot on my heels.

"Make sure we've got EMS en route." I yell back at Mike. _Good girl, Cal, good girl_. She never gave him her real name. After endlessly going over what happened immediately before Callie was taken, we have been partially expecting to hear her called this, understanding that she was going in place of a girl by that name.

When we reach the motel, several more units are pulling up in front. We line up beside the door of the room, ready for anything. While he claims it's just her left inside, we can't trust a word he says, and there's no guarantee there isn't another man inside. I try to push the thought out of my mind.

An officer stands in front of the door, kicking it solidly once, twice, before it breaks through. We are instantly assaulted with the metallic smell of blood, and urine. It is dark in the room, just a dim light on in the corner, the shades are drawn completely. Someone tears them open, and several officers break away, going in different directions to quickly clear the rooms. Mike is in front of me as we burst in, and I hear him say her name. "Callie?"

I push past him, desperate to get to her, but stop almost instantly in my tracks as my eyes fall upon her. There is no way this is my baby. She is naked, blindfolded, and it is difficult to distinguish anything on her body aside from the deep black bruising, and wounds that have smeared blood. There is no clean skin on this girls body.

The sheets beneath her look like someone has poured gallons of red dye on them, and I feel vomit rise in my throat. She is handcuffed to the bed, and her hands don't even look like hands anymore. The swelling, blood, and bruising makes them indistinguishable. I find myself temporarily frozen. _This can't be my Callie._

Mike has taken a few more slow steps forward. "Callie." He breathes, shocked. I am about to speak when she suddenly throws herself against the handcuffs, letting out a scream so painful that it makes me want to cover my ears. Instead, I instinctively rush toward her. "Callie! Baby! It's okay, it's us, honey. It's me, it's mom!" I try to find a way to grab her and stop her before she further injures herself, but she continues thrashing and falls partially off the side of the bed, her body hanging from the handcuffs.

"We need help in here!" I shout as Mike and I try to grab hold of her to push her back onto the bed, to stop her from hanging. 4 officers are right there, and we all grab hold of a part of her as we try to set her on the bed as quickly as possible.

She manages to kick one of the rookies straight in the chest, knocking him back slightly as he cusses. There is a part inside of me that is proud of her, but a much larger part that just wants her to realize she is safe now. As soon as we get hold of her enough to lay her on the bed, I command everyone to let go of her, hoping that the hands retreating from her body will allow her to calm enough to hear my voice.

"Callie, sweets. Listen to momma. Everything is okay, baby. Nobody is going to hurt -" my sentence is interrupted by her yanking her arms downward with enough force to pull her left wrist through the cuff with a sickening pop. She shrieks loudly in between sobs. Blood is everywhere, soaked into the pillows, the sheets, splattered against the walls.

We need a new plan, and we need it fast. There is no way she has not shattered her left wrist, and as she immediately spins around in an attempt to lay her body weight into pulling her right wrist free, I realize she is rapidly about to do the same to that one. "Callie!" I yell, desperate to reach her. "You guys, grab onto her legs, pull her toward the headboard to relieve the pressure on that right wrist." I order as I crawl onto the bed with her, working to get behind her in an attempt to keep her still.

She continues yanking against the cuff until the other officers pull her forward, holding tightly to keep her from sliding back again. One of them grabs her right arm to keep her from jerking it as I slide behind her and wrap my arms tightly around her body, pinning her left arm down to protect her. She is shaking like a leaf, and I feel her pain in my soul. I'm still speaking to her, trying to get her to come back to me, but I know she is not hearing a word I am saying.

"Okay, I want just one of you to hold each of her legs, everyone else let go of her. Let's get as many hands off of her as possible. Someone cover her with a sheet, please." They quickly follow my orders. "Mike, can you get this.. This _thing_ off her face." I'm trying so hard not to let my rage at the situation spill out into my voice. I need her to calm down and hear me, not be more afraid of me. As an officer settles a sheet over her body, I feel her flinch against me. Her breathing is so rapid, I can't imagine she is actually get enough oxygen.

Mike reaches to the blindfold, fumbling around with the contraption as Callie jerks her head away from him, and the blindfold falls off her face. I'm hopeful that giving her back her sight will bring her back into the moment. There is a moment of stillness, and just as my hopes begin to rise, she begins struggling again, groaning as she pulls back roughly. Mike immediately grabs hold of her elbow, stopping her from pulling any more. "Shhhh, sweets, shhh." I whisper into her ear. "Give her a second." I say to Mike.

After a moment of her remaining still, Mike reaches forward to uncuff her, and she responds by giving another violent pull against her wrist. "Oh, baby, no. No, sweets, it's okay, let us help you. It's okay." I tell her, silently cursing myself. I have a decent view of her right wrist, and from what I can tell through the blood coating everything, the cuff appears to be literally embedded into her skin, possibly even muscle tissue. She is undoubtedly injuring herself more severely every time she pulls it. I have got to get her out of this situation as minimally more damaged as possible.

Mike keeps his grip on her arm as I tell a different officer to release the part of the handcuff that is around the pole. As soon as he reaches out, Callie is shoving back against me - hard - trying to twist out of my grasp and very nearly succeeding.

I try to push her further forward while the cops at her legs pull her up. Mike keeps his hold on her arm, and I have an idea. It is potentially going to cause her more fear that she is in danger, but I just can't see any other way to quickly get her free.

Every time we reach for the cuff, she loses it. My stomach turns at the thought of causing her any more distress, and I try to swallow it down. "You," I nod toward the younger officer who got kicked earlier. "Come over here. I want you to put your hands over her eyes. Do not let her see anything. She's probably going to fight you, but don't let go until that cuff is free of the bed. When that happens, I want everyone to let go of her and exit this room except for Mike and Ramirez, okay?" They all nod, and the rookie comes over, quickly wrapping his hands around the front of her face.

She jerks desperately against his hands, releasing terrified whimpers that pierce through my soul, knowing that the fear she is feeling at this moment is being directly caused by me. "Easy, Cal, take it easy baby. Mommas here. We're going to help you" She is pushing against us again, trying to free herself, and I am afraid this may not work, either. Mike maintains his hold on her arm. "We're going to get it off, let us get it off you." She seems to resign herself to our hold, and everyone feels the urgency to end this.

The handcuff is opened quickly, and everyone drops their hold on her as soon as it falls free, hitting the metal. She pulls her arm back in a knee-jerk reaction, and it shoots backward as she doesn't hit the resistance she clearly anticipates. She begins to try to break free of my arms, but with much less strength than before, and I wrap my right arm around hers, holding both her arms against her gently, in case she attempts to use them to fight me. I am trying to get her to calm down before releasing her, afraid she will injure herself if I let her go now.

She doesn't pull away from me again, and she twists her head back and forth, trying to look around. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut, opening them briefly every few seconds, as though it hurts. Her gaze on Mike and Ramirez are getting longer, and I can feel the panic rolling off her in waves. She is still afraid. It is not incredibly bright in this room, but as my heart shatters further, I realize I don't know how much time she has spent behind the black of a blindfold, and the natural light is probably painful to her eyes.

I ask Mike to step into the other room, and for the remaining officer to draw the curtains halfway and exit the room. I give her a few more minutes as we just sit there together, and I continue whispering love to her. She's still shaking, but her breathing has evened out, and she hasn't made a move to get away from me. I'm praying that she is coming back down to me. I slowly ease myself away from her, enough to give her space, but close enough to let my hand rub very gently up and down her back, like I have done so many times before. I know that this is one of the most calming gestures for her.

She seems to be okay for a minute, until my hand brushes against a wound, and she flinches away. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't touch you anymore, okay? I'm just going to sit right here with you." I move myself up on the bed, trying to find her eyes to ground her. She doesn't even appear to notice me, her haunted and broken gaze is staring straight at the largest area soaked with blood. With _her_ blood.

The look in her eyes is enough to break the dam in my eyes, tears flooding over the side of my cheeks. _Why, why, why. Why has this happened to her?_ "Hey, baby, look at me. I want you to look at my face, okay? Focus on me." I try to sound stronger than I feel, needing to be there for her now.

Her gaze slowly reaches mine, a disconnection from reality present in her eyes. I give her a smile. "That's my girl, keep looking at me. We are going to get through this, okay? I love you, sweets. Oh, I love you so much." She seems to study me for a moment. "Mom?" she whispers, and relief floods through me, overwhelming everything. "Yes, sweet girl. I'm here." I want so badly to wrap her up into my arms, but I know that she isn't ready for that. She breaks eye contact with me, looking around the room. "Russell." she whispers, clearly trying to warn me about him, and it drives home to me how out of it she still is.

"We have him in custody, Cal, he's not here. He's never going to come near you again." I am hoping this comforts her, but she refuses to meet my gaze again. I see her swallow, and for the first time, I take in the appalling severity of the bruising on her neck. I fight to push the images out of my mind of how they were created, and the pain and fear she must have felt. "Do you want to move off the bed, sweets?" I want to offer her any comfort possible, and I can't imagine sitting on this bed is a comforting feeling for her. She shakes her head, and I see her clench her teeth against the pain.

"Okay. No worries baby. We will just sit here and wait for the ambulance, ok?" this seems to capture her attention. "Amb'lance?" she asks quietly. "Yeah, honey, we need to get your injuries seen, they will be here in just a minute. It will be ok." She looks away from me, appearing to detach herself from reality again as she stares into the blood. I continue speaking softly to her, hoping it is helping her in some way, although she doesn't respond.


	13. Chapter 13

Stef POV

The door is flung open, letting bright light in again, and the paramedics come inside. "Mom." she looks at me now, her eyes screaming in fear. "Hey, it's okay, Cal. Look at me. It's okay." I try to keep my voice steady and calm. "They are going to help you. Remember? They are going to treat your injuries. I won't leave you."

She is glancing rapidly between me and them now, as one of the men walks closer. I can see she is going back into the panicked place we found her in, and I have no idea how we are going to get past this.

"S'ok, I'm ok." She states nervously, clearly trying to make them disappear. I offer her a compassionate smile. "Oh, love. It's going to be okay. I'm going to be with you the whole time. Nobody is going to hurt you. Can you come with me?" She looks between us again, shaking her head "Am okay." she rasps out.

 _God, dammit, this is going to be hard_. What I wouldn't give to take away her fear and pain. "Can you give us a minute? She's not going to come with us easily, can you bring your stretcher in here? We are probably going to have to end up lifting her." I whisper back at the medics. They nod, retreating to give us space and get their equipment. Callie lets out a breath as they leave, and I feel awful knowing the battle that is likely coming.

"Can you scoot closer to me, sweets?" I'm hoping she can make it near enough to the edge that nobody will have to get onto the bed to help move her from there to the cot. The last thing that is going to make her feel better is men climbing into bed with her. She nods, slowly and gingerly making her way toward me, keeping her hands dangling in her lap.

I slide off the bed and kneel in front of her, praying she will really hear me. "We need to go to the hospital, Callie, ok? This is very important. We have to get you looked at. You are not okay right now, you are really hurt, baby. But we are going to take care of you." During the middle of me talking, the door opens and the medics return, pushing their cot into the room before shutting the door behind them. They stay back, but I can tell she is quickly receding back into her brain, afraid. Her breathing has gotten quicker, and she is shaking harder.

I lay my hand on her knee, trying to get her focus back on me. "I won't leave your side. Look at me, bug. Sweetie, please look at me." She barely manages a glance at my face before immediately setting her sights on the medics behind me. I continue, anyway. "I'm going to be with you the whole time. I won't let anyone hurt you, Callie."

I nod at the medics, telling them we're ready. They move forward slowly. The lead medic, Daniel, speaks gently to Callie, although I question if she even hears him. "We just want to move you over onto the cot, Callie, so we can put you in the ambulance and get you to the hospital." I lay my hand on her shoulder, trying to ground her, but she jerks away from me, her breath catching in her throat as she raises her left arm to defend herself. "It's just me, love, it's just me." I pull my arm back at the same time that Daniel reaches to pull the sheet further up her body to keep her covered, and this is what triggers her to take action.

She quickly turns on the bed, letting out a sharp cry of pain as she tries to crawl away from us using her battered hands. "Cal! It's okay!" I call to her, and Daniel reaches underneath each of her arms, pulling her gently back toward him. The other medic slides in beside us, grabbing onto one of her flailing legs, and I grasp the other as we quickly move her to the cot, setting her down. She throws her right arm up, blindly trying to injure someone, and manages to nail Daniel in his side with the free end of the handcuff. Her hand drops quickly back down, her face twisted in pain.

I am in front of her now, hoping to bring her panic down before it escalates further. "Baby, look at me, please look at me. I will keep you safe. You don't have to fight them. I'm right here. It will be okay." Daniel lays out a thick blanket over her, and this seems to help as she stops struggling and visibly buries herself underneath it. I help them buckle her straps, and to my surprise, she doesn't fight us. _Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought._

We quickly move her out of the motel. As soon as the brightness hits her face, she calls for me and throws her hand out, reaching. I grasp onto her damaged hand, laying it back on the blanket as gently as possible. "I'm right here, sweets." I say to her as she is pushed into the ambulance, and I climb in after her.

"Cal, love." I speak a bit louder to her as I see the vacancy growing in her eyes. Daniel is trying to get the things he needs done, while also being careful not to trigger her into a panicked state, and so he has enlisted my help in anything that requires more than very minor touching. "We need to place some stickers on your chest to look at your heart, ok? Daniel is going to hand them to me, and I will put them on you instead. Is that okay?"

She nods hesitantly at me. I try to mentally prepare myself for the wounds I am going to see as I carefully pull the blanket away from her. I make it my mission to focus on what I am doing, making sure it is done correctly, but there are moments my mind is overwhelmed by the brutality that has been inflicted upon my daughter. Tears fill my eyes once again as I barely graze a particularly nasty, sensitive mark below her breast, and she cries out loudly, trying to push my hand away with her own injured one. Every time I think the pain inside my heart can't get more wholly-encompassing, it does.

"I'm sorry, baby, I know. I'm so sorry. It's okay, there's just one more, then you're done, ok?" I gently lay her hand back down, barely touching it. "please try to keep your arms down, love, I don't want you to hurt yourself even worse." She nods distantly, and the hollow look takes over her eyes again. I keep my hand stroking gently through her hair, the only area of her body that appears to not be quite as hurt.

It is quiet for a few minutes while Daniel continues setting things up, and I watch as a look of concern crosses Callie's features before she looks to me. "Mom.." her voice is painful just to listen to, and my stomach rolls as I wonder if her larynx will suffer permanent damage. "How long?" I have to lean in as close as I can to hear her. I am not sure what she means by her question, and I hate having to ask her anything she has to answer. "How long what, sweetie? How long til we're at the hospital?" I wish I knew what she was asking. She shakes her head. "Gone." she whispers. I put it together and understand, she doesn't know how long she was missing. "It was a month and a half, sweets." The failure I feel at not finding her sooner sinks deeper into my heart.

"Is it difficult to speak, Callie?" Daniel asks her. She hesitates before nodding back at him. "Does it feel difficult to breathe at all?" he questions. "Yeah." she whispers. "Okay, well your oxygen saturation is pretty low, so I'm going to get some oxygen started on you, okay?" Daniel looks at me and points to the screen, showing an 02 sat of 84%. "K." she croaks at him.

Daniel hands me a mask to put on her face, but before I can even get it all the way on her, she is fighting the feeling of it. "Am okay." she gasps, jerking her head away from me, throwing her hands up in an attempt to grasp at the mask as I try to pull it back off her. "Ok, ok, it's alright Cal." I try to reassure as I manage to remove it. Daniel gives me a frown, handing me a nasal cannula to put on her instead. The mask would have given her much better concentrated oxygen, but clearly this will have to do for now. I press it against her nostrils, hooking it over her ears as carefully as possible, but still accidentally bumping against her swollen and bloody earlobe. I lay my hand back on her head, smoothing her hair, and I watch as she grows distant again.

Daniel looks over Callie's head toward me, whispering. "Is she afraid of needles? I really need to start an IV and get fluids in her, her blood pressure is way too low." I shake my head. She has never had problems with anything like that before. Daniel comes around the side of her, explaining everything he is doing and about to do, trying to remind her to keep her arms still so as not to further injure them. As he turns her right arm over and prods gently for a good vein, Callie looks down at him for the first time and responds with sheer terror.

She yanks her arm away from him. "Plea-" she starts before cutting herself off. I'm taken aback at her volatile reaction as she tries to hit Daniel again, but instead accidentally manages to hit me. "Callie, honey! Easy! It's okay, it's just an IV!" I try to quell her fears about whatever she imagines is about to happen, but she doesn't even acknowledge I have spoken. "Sorry, am so sorry! Don't burn!" She is sobbing now, pleading with us while doing the best she can to kick her legs free of the seatbelts holding her in.

The cardiac monitor is a flurry of beeping as her heart rate soars. She is clinging on to me, and I cringe at how much pain this must be causing her to do. "Baby, listen to me, please, please listen to me! Nothing bad is going to happen, I'm right here with you." She is looking at me, but doesn't appear to hear what I have said. "Please no drugs. Please. Sorry. Sorry. Don't burn." she is gasping, desperate. As her words sink in, I lean back as though I've been struck. The syringes that were all over the table in the motel room. He was shooting her up. Trying to get her hooked. I feel as though the air has been stolen from my lungs as I consider the new complications that have been added to an already unimaginable situation.

In the short time it takes me to recover, Callie has managed to kick a leg free and Daniel is trying to fix that, when she manages to unbuckle one of her front straps, sitting herself straight up. I reach for her at the same time Daniel does, and we both try gently to push her back down.

"Sweets, it's okay, he's not going to give you drugs. I'm here, remember, you're not going to be hurt." I'm speaking loudly, praying she will calm down, but knowing by the sound of the monitor that we are far from that moment. She swings her arm out toward Daniel, clearly trying to hurt him. He ducks backward from her swing without letting go of her, and we use more force to lay her back down as she tries to push me away from her. "No more, please, stop him." Her tears are endless, and I wish there was anything I could do to help her right now.

We lay her fully back down and manage to strap her back in, but she continues to throw blind fists out into the air, hoping to connect with one of us. "No more. No more." she keeps rasping out, over and over, a repetitive plea for mercy. "Baby, calm down, please, it's okay! He won't start an IV, ok? Will that make it better?" I am looking straight into her eyes, and I see no recognition that she is even aware of what situation she is in, or who she is even with.

"Her Sp02 has dropped a lot." Daniel comments, reaching forward to replace the cannula that has slipped off of her during her struggle. Callie hauls toward his face with her fist, intent on making a connection, but he reels back and there is a pop from her wrist that makes bile rise in my throat. Panic is beginning to consume me, as well, as there seems to be nothing we can do to bring her out of this. Daniel immediately grabs hold of her right arm, holding it down and keeping it still. I do the same with her left, trying to be as gentle as possible. "Stop, please, don't." she is struggling against our hold, begging us, and tears are cascading down my cheeks right along with hers, unable to help my girl.

Daniel looks at me seriously. "Stef, I know this is hard, but we've got to do something. Her heartrate is dangerously high, her sp02 is in the tank, her blood pressure is too low.. I'm afraid she's too weak to tolerate this much stress right now. She is worsening already severe injuries, as well. I think it would be best if I was able to initiate an IV, give her a sedative to calm her and get fluids running to bring her pressure up. It would make us better able to treat her right now. I'd have to secure this arm to be able to start an IV, and I'm aware that's going to scare her even more, but it will hopefully be over very quickly."

My heart is breaking. This situation has spiraled out of control so quickly and so badly, and I know the decision that has to be made for her well-being. But having to consent to allowing her to be further terrified and think that what she was afraid of happening is now happening, and that I am not protecting her…. It tears my soul in two, no matter how temporary or good for her it is. I nod at him, giving him permission, as I brush away my tears against my arm, preparing to comfort her and steel myself for what is coming.

This discussion she seems to have been more aware of, as her panic seems to climb. "Mom. No drug. No drug." She states as loudly as she can, her voice breaking over the words. "Oh my baby, I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." I say as I use my right hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

Daniel kneels down beside her right arm, reaching into the small compartment behind him, pulling out 2 nylon straps. My heart is in my throat as I watch him loop it around her arm, tightening it. It is so painful to watch him do this, knowing that we have just freed her from the likely month and a half of restraints that she has been living in. I can't fathom the amount of terror this must strike in her heart, but it is obvious as her struggles take on a new level of fierceness as she feels her freedom being removed.

"Momma, please no, hurts!" her voice is rough and weak, coming out painfully. He tightens the second strap, reaching back for his IV kit, trying to be as quick and efficient as possible. She is watching him and as she sees him expose the needle and prepare it, she pulls hard against me, trying to use her left arm to get away. I brush through her hair with my hand, still keeping a solid grip on her with my other arm.

"Easy, Cal, take it easy baby. It's okay. Look at me, watch me." She glances up at me at the same moment he slides the needle into her arm, and she lets out a high pitched cry. "Don't want, mom, don't want." Her eyes are darting everywhere, her panic somehow rising further. He flushes and secures the IV, reaching quickly for the vial of sedation he has pulled out, drawing it up in a smaller syringe.

"Sweet girl, I know. I know you don't, but it's going to be okay. It's not what you think, Cal, mom wouldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let him do that to you, baby." I don't know that she even hears me, but I won't stop my attempts to reach her. He injects the sedation directly into the port, and she glances up at me, her eyes alive with fear. "Please don't. Please, mom." My heart is crushed more and more with every desperate plea from her for me to save her from this.

"I'm here with you, baby. Nothing bad is going to happen." I remind her, as I feel her stop pulling so hard against my hold on her arm. "Don't hurt, please." She pleads once more, her voice quieter. I lay a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

"I'm going to keep this arm secure until I am absolutely positive she's not at risk of ripping it out." Daniel tells me, and I nod my understanding. While I absolutely loathe keeping her arm secured any longer than has already passed, I know it would be much worse if we had to go through that process all over again. The sedation has clearly had a powerful impact on her already, the beeping of the monitor has fallen significantly, reaching back to a normal range.

I watch her eyes drift lazily around the rig until she meets mine, appearing to lock her gaze with mine. I'm aware that while her body has reacted to the medication, underneath it all, she is likely still feeling that same overwhelming panic, but is simply unable to express it. "That's my girl, Cal, it's okay. Take it easy. I'm right here. Everything is going to be okay."

Tears continue to stream down her face, confirming what I suspect. I brush them away and kiss her on the cheek, hoping she knows I will keep her safe. She lets her sight leave mine, staring at Daniel with hazy fear in her eyes.

"It'd be best if we could get her sats up more than they were on the cannula. She shouldn't fight the mask as much this time." He says, handing me the mask to put on while he reaches to pull away the discarded cannula. "Don't like." Callie murmurs, upset by his proximity.

The idea of doing something to her that she doesn't want done, but simply can't physically fight back, makes me have to swallow back the vomit rising in my throat. I understand we are doing it to help her.. But I am not so sure she sees it that way, and I wonder if I'm going to become a villain in her eyes before this is all said and done.

I try to ease the mask over her face as slowly as possible, trying not to make it feel so claustrophobic. It doesn't work, as she twitches. "Don't want, mom." She says quietly, but angrily. "It's okay baby." I reassure her "Just for a minute until you can breathe better, ok?" Her head falls to the side, away from me, and my heart sinks.

"I'm going to give her some Morphine, she has got to be in excruciating pain. I'm not going to give her much, but it is still going to make her a lot more woozy and sedated." Daniel explains, drawing up the medication, pushing it into the IV. He stands up, grabbing a liter of fluids to hang and begins running it into her IV. I continue slowly stroking my hand through her hair, whispering my love to her.

"I'm concerned about the severity of bruising on her throat, here," he explains to me as he points to the black bruises marring her throat. "That could indicate some serious damage, and given she is having some difficulty breathing and speaking, it's probably likely." He reaches up and gently feels along her neck, pressing lightly over the bruising. I have never seen bruising that severe or widespread on someone's neck before, and I try to push away the images that enter my mind of how they came to be.

Callie rolls her head back toward me, and I can see the panic in her eyes, just below the surface. "Mom. Scared. Please stop, please." I cup my hands gently around her face, hoping if she only sees me, it will ease her fear. "Nobody is going to hurt you here. I won't let anything happen to you. I love you, sweets." Daniel's fingers must play against exactly the wrong spot, as she suddenly jerks her arm forcefully against her restraint, her left arm making an appearance to swing blindly at her imagined attacker, forcing me to lean back slightly.

Her voice is louder, this time. "Please stop. Hurting me." Daniel backs off, letting out a low whistle. "I've seen grown men knocked out by this kind of medication. The amount of adrenaline she must be producing to be able to come against it that hard is pretty astounding." _Of course it is,_ I think. Because in her mind, she believes she is fighting for her life. I lean back into her view, smiling at her with a reassurance I don't currently feel. "Ok, baby, see, it's all done. Nobody's going to hurt you." I continue wiping the tears from her face before laying my hand back in her hair.

After a while, I ask Daniel if we can replace the mask on her face, wanting to make her more comfortable and show her that I really am in her corner, looking out for her. He agrees, and I ease the mask off her face and replace it. She hardly acknowledges the action. Daniel gently prods her ear, pulling the stuck earring out of her torn lobe, and she gives only the smallest of flinches. I almost would have believed she wasn't even aware of what was happening, until her eyes rolled toward me purposefully. "Don't like it" she states, quiet. I lay my hand gently on her face, stroking her cheek. "I know, sweets, I know. It's okay, though. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Daniel catches my eye, pointing toward her arm, still tied. "I suspect we're okay to loosen this up, now. I'm not going to remove them from her arm, just in case, but I'm going to untie it from the railing." He whispers toward me, and I feel relief flood through me as he releases her arm from the rail. Finally. As her arm is let go, it twitches, and she gives out an annoyed sounding grunt. The sound makes me give a small smile and a bit of hope sparks inside of me… somewhere in there, there's still my girl. Determined and stubborn.

Daniel goes back to cleaning her ear, and as he leans in to get a closer look, she looks desperately into my eyes again. "Don't like. Scared." She rasps out. I know what a huge admission it is for this girl to admit she is scared, and the bit of hope I was feeling falls quickly. "Oh, love, I know you're scared. But I'm here. I will protect you, baby. I know you feel like you can't defend yourself right now, but it's going to be okay, because I'm here to defend you, alright?" I continue comforting her, and I watch as her eyelids droop, then open wider, then droop again, as she clearly fights against the pull to sleep.

"Oh, my girl.. Sleep. I will be here for you when you wake up, love." I whisper to her as her eyes finally droop again before staying shut. I am afraid to breathe for fear of waking her. I sigh internally, thinking of what is looming in front of us. The hospital. Where the exams are going to be far more extensive and intrusive, with more people involved. Things have been so difficult already, I can hardly imagine the battle awaiting us. I close my eyes, wishing I could take all of this heartache from her. My poor, sweet, girl.


	14. Chapter 14

Callie POV

The door flings open, letting bright light in, and I see men in the doorway. I feel myself panicking. "Mom." I look at her, fear shining bright in my eyes. "It's okay, Cal. Look at me. It's okay. They are going to help, remember? They are going to treat your injuries. I won't leave you." I am glancing between her and them, feeling my fight or flight reaction ready to fire.

The medics walk closer, and my fear climbs. "S'ok, I'm okay." I shake my head, looking at my mom. My voice is raspy. She gives me a sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes as she slides off the bed and holds her hands out toward me. "Oh, love. It's going to be okay. I'm going to be with you the whole time. Nobody is going to hurt you. Can you come with me?" I look between her and them, afraid. I shake my head. "Am okay."

Stef looks at the medics and says something I don't hear. They retreat out the door, and I'm instantly thankful. "Can you scoot closer to me, sweets?" She questions. I nod, even though I'm not entirely sure that I can. I slowly shift my way closer, keeping my hands cradled painfully in my lap, until I am near the edge of the bed. She kneels in front of me. "We need to go to the hospital, Callie, ok? This is very important. We have to get you looked at. You are not okay right now, you are really hurt, baby. We are going to take care of you."

During the middle of her talking, the door opens and the medics return with a cot, pushing it into the room before shutting the door behind them. I try to swallow down some of my fear, but it only seems to grow. _This is a trap_ my mind whispers. "I won't leave your side. Look at me, bug. Sweetie, please look at me." I cast a quick glance down at her before rapidly putting my eyes back on these men. "I'm going to be with you the whole time. I won't let anyone hurt you, Callie." I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my body again. My heart beats loud in my ears, drowning out the voice of my mom. _It's a trap. You know it's a trap. You know what they will do to you._

I watch as they move closer to me. They are speaking, but I can hear nothing except blood rushing in my ears. Stef lays her hand on my shoulder and I jerk instinctively, my mangled left arm coming up protect myself. "It's just me, love, it's just me."

I watch as his arm reaches out toward me, and I can't contain it anymore. I frantically try to turn around, using my arms to brace myself even as the pain of my actions burns into my brain. "Cal! It's okay!" I hear her call to me as hands come under my arms, another set grabbing hold of my legs, lifting me into the air before setting me back down within seconds.

I throw my right hand up, nailing someone in the chest with the other end of the handcuff. My hand drops back down, the strike causing pain to myself. Stef is in front of me now, pleading. "Baby, look at me, please look at me. I will keep you safe. You don't have to fight them. I'm right here. It will be okay."

A heavy blanket is thrown over me, and I suddenly relish in the feeling of no longer being exposed. Stef is helping the medic buckle me in, and I don't like it, but I don't want to come out from under this blanket. It makes me feel safer. They wheel me out the door, the bright light of sun blinding me completely. "Mom!" I reach my hand from under the blanket, looking for her. She gently takes my hand and lays it back down on the blanket. "I'm right here, sweets."

I am pushed into the ambulance, and Stef climbs up to sit beside me. The medic gets in on the other side of me, and I'm immediately unnerved at the small space and close proximity to him. He starts hooking me up to the monitor, getting things ready, and I try to focus on Stef, instead.

"Cal, love." I find that I've let myself drift, detach from myself, as Stef's voice jolts me back. "We need to place some stickers on your chest to look at your heart, ok? Daniel is going to hand them to me, and I will put them on you instead. Is that okay?" I don't want them to, but I guess if it's my mom. I nod. She pulls the blanket back, and I let myself watch her face. She tries hard to focus only on the task at hand, but I can tell when she gets distracted by the burns, the teeth marks, the bruises. I force myself to look away from her, ashamed. _She must think I'm disgusting._

Her hand brushes over a particularly bad wound below my breast, and I cry out, raising my hand to block her. Tears well rapidly in her eyes. "I'm sorry baby, I know, I'm so sorry. It's okay, there's just one more, then you're done, ok?" She lays my left wrist down gently. "Please try to keep your arms down, love, I don't want you to hurt yourself even worse." I nod, not really paying attention anymore as I let myself dissociate while she finishes placing the last sticker on my chest.

I hear the rhythmic beating of my heart on the monitor, and try to lose myself in its steadiness. Stef keeps her hand on my head, smoothing my hair, whispering words to me. I wonder if I could fall asleep here. I haven't actually just naturally slept… in….in.. I don't know how long I was gone. "Mom." I whisper. "How long?"

Words hurt coming up my throat, and I regret even asking. She cocks her head at me. "How long what, sweetie? How long til we're at the hospital?" I shake my head. "Gone." This she seems to understand, as her face falls. "It was a month and a half, sweets." The regret sounds heavy in her voice.

The medic leans slightly toward me. "Is it difficult to speak, Callie?" I don't like him saying that name. I nod, anyway. "Does it feel difficult to breathe at all?" I hesitate, not sure I want him to know. "Yeah." I whisper. "Okay, well your oxygen saturation is pretty low, so I'm going to get some oxygen started on you, okay?" "K" I croak.

He comes back around with a mask, and hands it to Stef to put on me. As soon as it starts to go on, I'm panicking at the feeling. I jerk my head and raise my hand to stop her. "Am okay." I insist, grasping unsuccessfully at the mask. The free cuff still dangling from around my wrist that it is deeply embedded into, and the weight hurts.

"Ok, ok, it's alright Cal." She removes it, and the medic hands her back something much smaller, it just looks like a tube. She presses it against my nostrils, looping each side over my ears, and I cringe as it bumps my swollen and sensitive ear. She rests her hand back against my hair, returning to her previous ministrations, and I allow myself to drift.

The medic comes around toward the front of me, explaining to me how he's going to straighten my right arm but for me to keep it very still, that he doesn't want to damage anything in my hand further. I feel numb and lost. I barely even notice him. He is speaking again, but I don't hear him. I find myself making a home in the ceiling, creating a new safe place for myself up there. He gently grips my forearm, and I look down to pull away when I see the large needle he's about to stick into me.

Adrenaline floods my body, and I fling my arm away from him, accidentally nailing Stef in the arm with the free-flying cuff. I don't have time to feel bad about this. "Plea-" I yell, my voice breaking. _Oh, God._ _Why did I say that? I know what he will do to me. I know what is coming. The burning._ "Sorry, am so sorry! Please don't burn!" I am trying desperately to get out from under these seatbelts, kicking my legs until I manage to partially free one.

The frantic beeping on the monitor is a small window into my panic. I am grasping desperately for Stef, but she continues trying to get me to calm down. She doesn't understand what he's going to do to me. I start trying to unbuckle myself with my useless limbs. "Please no drug. Please. Sorry. Sorry. Don't burn." Stef reels back as though I have physically slapped her.

The medic is trying desperately to re-secure my legs, and in their distractions, I manage to free one of my top straps. I come forward off the stretcher, and both Stef and the medic try to hold me back. "Sweets, it's okay, he's not going to give you drugs. I'm here, remember, you're not going to be hurt." Poor Stef. She doesn't understand. He's going to, that's what he's about to do.

I fling my arm out at him, trying to make him let me go. I feel immense rage towards him. I want to hurt him. He reels back but doesn't remove his hands. I shove at Stef. "No more, please, stop him." My breath is coming in short pants, and I am starting to feel dizzy. They manage to lay me down, my strength not enough to fight against them, but it doesn't stop me from using my arms as weapons. "No more," I plead, desperate. "No more."

"Baby, calm down, please, it's okay! He won't start an IV, ok? Will that make it better?" Stef is trying to comfort me while at the same time keeping me laying down, ducking my frantic swings. At this point, I don't care who I hurt, I just want them to let me go. I hear them talking with each other, but nothing sinks in.

The medic reaches toward me, and I know he is reaching for my throat. I throw my right arm up, aiming solely for his face. I barely miss, but there is a definite pop that sounds from somewhere in my arm, and a wave of nausea overtakes me. He grabs onto my arm and holds it firmly down at my side. "Stop, please, don't." I'm begging.

Tears are flowing freely now. At some point Stef has managed to buckle me back in and is holding my left arm gently at my side, preventing me from using it against them. The panic only increases at feeling restrained, and terror sets in my heart as I realize Stef is trying to help him and not me. I am lost in a place they don't understand. She doesn't know what I know. She doesn't know what is in that needle. I know.

They are discussing the need to give me drugs, and I am terrified when I realize she is agreeing with him. She can't do this to me. She can't. "Mom. No drug. No drug." I try to yell, fighting harder to free my arms from their grasps. Stef has tears rolling down her cheeks as she looks at me. She nods at the medic, keeping my left arm still with one hand and starts wiping away my tears with her other. "Oh my baby, I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." I flinch away from her, confused and upset.

The medic reaches behind him, pulling out 2 straps. My struggle deepens as he tightens a strap around my forearm below my wrist, and again at my upper arm. It was a trap, I _knew_ it was a trap. "Momma, please no, hurts!" It hurts so badly to speak, but I am so desperate. I see him getting out the needle again, and I try so hard to get myself free from him. Stef is holding onto my left arm tighter now to keep me from using it, like I am trying to do.

"Easy, Cal, take it easy baby. It's okay. Look at me, watch me." I chance a look in her direction, still confused why she is betraying me. I feel the needle pierce my skin and am crying openly now. "Don't want, mom, don't want." My eyes dart around the rig, fear making me want to run. "Sweet girl, I know. I know you don't, but it's going to be okay. It's not what you think, Cal, mom wouldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let him do that to you, baby." She assures me, but I don't believe her.

He grabs a vial of medication and draws it up into a separate syringe, injecting it directly into my IV port. "Please don't. Please, mom." Almost instantly I feel weaker, as though lead has been injected into me once again, and I am slowly losing that connection between mind and body. I hear Stef trying to reassure me that nothing is going to happen, but I hardly pay attention. She doesn't understand. "Don't hurt, please." my voice breaks painfully.

The medic appears to have said something, because Stef nods before turning her attention back to me. The beeping of the monitor has slowed down significantly, and my eyes move slowly around, searching for somewhere safe. I find Stef's eyes and try to anchor myself there, afraid of this helpless feeling. "That's my girl, Cal, it's okay. Take it easy. I'm right here. Everything is going to be okay." She wipes the tears away from under my eyes again, and leans in to give me a kiss on my cheek.

I let my eyes drift slowly toward the medic, worried about him. He gets a mask out of a cabinet and slowly pulls the cannula away that had fallen off anyway. "Don't like." I murmur, still afraid of him, but unable to act on it. Stef takes the mask from him and slips it over my head. "Don't want, mom." I mutter, frustrated and afraid. "It's okay, baby. Just for a minute until you can breathe better, ok?" I don't acknowledge her, instead letting my head roll to the side.

The medic reaches up to press on my throat, and my heart clenches. I roll my head back toward Stef, the fear inside me not fully reaching the surface. "Mom. Scared. Please stop, please." She cups her hands gently around my face, reassuring me. He continues pressing, and when he uses his thumb and forefinger to press on either side, the panic generated is enough to break the haze, if only for a moment. "Please stop. Hurting me." I jerk my right arm forcefully against the restraint, before lifting my left arm to swing blindly, managing to accidentally hit Stef. The medic pulls his hands back and retreats. Stef is in front of me again, "Ok, baby, see, it's all done. Nobody's going to hurt you." She wipes the remaining tears off my cheeks, and returns to resting her hand in my hair.

After a few minutes, she removes the mask from my face, replacing it with the cannula again. I don't say anything, just let myself drift further away. Things feel even more distant, now, and I know the drugs have sunk in. My body is so heavy, I don't even bother thinking about moving. The medic reaches up to inspect my earlobe, gently pulling the earring through the tear it created, and I barely flinch. Inside, I want him away from me. But I can't bring my body to act.

My eyes roll toward Stef. "Don't like it." I whisper quietly. She brushes her hand along my cheek. "I know, sweets, I know. It's okay, though. I won't let anyone hurt you." I feel the straps around my arm loosen suddenly. I want to jerk my arm back, but have to settle for a grunt instead, physically incapable of doing anything more. He rinses my earlobe with saline, using gauze to wipe away the blood, revealing the tear. He leans in to look a little closer, and fear stabs my heart. "Don't like. Scared." I want to reach out to her, I want to feel safe. I don't want to be touched anymore.

"Oh, love, I know you're scared. But I'm here. I will protect you, baby. I know you feel like you can't defend yourself right now, but it's okay, because I'm here to defend you, alright?"

She is brushing her hand through my hair again, and I feel my eyelids drooping as I try to cling to her voice, wanting to avoid the darkness but slowly being pulled further under until quietness fully envelops me.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: So, long time no update! I have had an absolute ton written on this story that I've just not published, because I felt the story kind of changing and had some new ideas, and I wasn't sure how to work what I had written with what I had already posted. SO. I made the decision to revamp all the previous chapters. Every one has been updated, but it's NOT necessary for you to go back and re-read the whole thing, if you don't want to. The only big change is that I changed the timeline Callie was gone with Russell. Instead of a week, I've made it a month and a half. Other than that, there are some other details I've added in, but again, you won't be super lost if you just keep reading from here on out. I also needed to figure out what to do with all the other kids, because it's just not feasible for me to incorporate them all right now. So, Brandon is at Juilliard. Mariana is at Robotics camp. Jesus is at Wrestling camp. and Jude is with Sharon(Stef's mom). I will start bringing them in later, as the summer ends(in the story). The other thing I've noticed is my writing style is very detailed. Therefore, you may get a super long chapter, but it doesn't really cover a huge amount. Which means this story is probably going to end up being incredibly long, lol. Unfortunately(or fortunately, if you like that), it's just how I write and I don't intend to change it. I'm sorry if this frustrates anyone. Hopefully you can still enjoy the story!

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Stef POV

It has been 10 minutes since Callie drifted off, and she has not yet stirred, even as Daniel continued trying to clean her up. He had very carefully rinsed and wiped down her left hand and wrist, trying to clear off some of the blood. It was very obviously deformed and broken in several places, at the least. He placed a temporary splint on it, in hopes that it would offer her some semblance of protection if she were to begin throwing her arm around again.

He did not mess with her right wrist too much, simply rinsing it with saline to get rid of the fresh blood. He placed a splint around it as best he could, but ultimately decided it would be best to let the hospital do the majority of the work on it.

He had worked on wiping down certain areas of her body - her chest and stomach, mostly, to see if he found anymore injuries that needed immediate medical attention. She is so covered in bruising and dried blood, it was often difficult to tell where a wound began and ended until he had managed to clean the area up. The amount of burns littering her skin made me feel nauseous to the point I truly thought I was going to vomit.

Several of the burns are clearly infected, which is really no surprise given their origin and the environment she was living in. It didn't take me long to put together that they were caused by cigarettes. They were all the same size and shape, and given the amount of cigarette butts lying around inside the motel, it was a fairly easy thing to link together.

I think about her begging us not to burn her, earlier, and shudder involuntarily. I'm not sure what emotion is more overwhelming inside my heart - rage, or anguish.

Her vitals had remained fairly stable the rest of the way, though her sp02 was only reaching around 88% on the cannula, so Daniel switched her back out with a non-rebreather mask. While Callie didn't react physically, her heart rate increased on the monitor.

I sat there letting my hand rub lightly up and down her arm, no longer speaking, but thinking intently. She has lost a sickening amount of weight, each rib easily visible, and I wonder if he even fed her at all. She is so pale and fragile-looking. It dawns on me then that she doesn't just appear fragile - she truly **is** fragile.

In this momentary in-between, I decide to call Lena. She answers before the first ring is over. "Mike called me, he said you found her. Where are you guys? How is she?" Her voice is tight with anxiety. "We're in an ambulance right now, we're heading to University Medical Center." I say, quietly, so as not to disturb Callie.

"Okay. I'm on my way. How is she, Stef?" She questions seriously. I pause, unsure how to tell her the truth. "It's bad, love. She's.. She's really hurt. Physically and mentally." I find myself feeling choked up, my voice quavering. There is silence on the other end for a moment. "I'll meet you at the hospital." Lena whispers. We say goodbye just as we pull up to the Ambulance bay outside of the ER. Daniel and I try to keep things as silent as possible. The doors of the rig open, and several nurses are there, waiting for us.

I gently hop out and begin telling them some of what has happened; how long she's been gone, the weight loss, the suspected drug use, the handcuffs, the likely severe sexual assaults she has experienced, and the immense panic she gets taken over by. Then I explain what happened when we found her. How she had torn her left wrist through the cuff, then continued to use and re-injure her hands, and her extremely adverse reaction to needles and pretty much every other form of care.

Daniel pulls the cot out as gently as possible, and I hold my breath that she remains unconscious to her surroundings. This entire hospital experience is going to be one of the most difficult parts, no doubt, and all I want at the moment is for her to feel calm.

As she is wheeled carefully into the ER, the medics explain their side of what they had seen and suspected, including the pain medication and sedative she was given. He warned them several times about her ability to power through it, and her violent actions when panicked. Everyone was keeping their voices generally low, apparently all hoping to extend her reaction to the sedation.

Once she was wheeled into the room, they prepared to move her over to the hospital bed. I got up at her head, placing my hands gently on her face, stroking lightly, hoping it would be enough of a comforting distraction to keep her from becoming too awake at the upcoming bumps. "On three," A nurse states. "One…. Two…. Three." Everyone lifts and shifts her at the same moment, easily laying her light frame onto the new bed.

The only reaction this receives from Callie is a light whimper. I stay at her head, soothing her, as the nurses begin their own examination of her. It is decided fairly quickly that they need x-rays of the majority of her body, and a CT scan of her head. They decide it would be best to take this step first, while she is still out. I am not allowed back with her, and I am anxious with worry the entire time. All I can think about is how terrified she will be if she wakes up to strangers all around her, and me nowhere in sight.

The doctor comes in, introducing himself to me as James, and tries to give me a rundown of what they are going to try to tackle and how.

"Obviously, the first thing we are going to do will be the X-Rays and CT scan we are working on now. We want a CT of her head since we don't know if there has been any cranial trauma, a concussion, anything of that sort. X-Rays are definitely needed to inspect the full extent of damage that has been done to her wrists." I nod, giving him my full attention.

"The next thing we will do will be to treat and cast her wrists/arms. We will bandage the wounds and cast her left arm before starting on her right, since the right will be a bit more difficult considering the removal of the handcuff. From there, we want to investigate what potential damage has been done to any of the structures in her neck. With her difficulty speaking, breathing, and consistently low sp02, it's likely there is something going on there." I feel my heart catch in my throat.

"It could be mild laryngeal edema, or a fractured hyoid. We will take her for an MRI to see what we find. We will also need to have a rape kit done as soon as possible to determine what damage is there, as well. And of course, we'll clean, treat, and bandage all other wounds on her body. Do you have any questions?" I try to process what he has said.

"How long do you think she'll stay out?" My biggest fear right now is how she is going to react to things. "We're going to draw blood when she gets back from X-ray and send that to the lab to see what - if any - drugs may be in her system. We likely won't administer any other medications or sedatives until we receive those results, just to be sure there is nothing that's going to be contraindicated." He explains.

"What if she wakes up and goes into that panicked state she did with us in the ambulance?" I ask anxiously. "Well, our main priority for her is obviously to keep her safe and protected from any further or worsened injuries, even if that means protecting her from herself. We will do the best we can to de-escalate any situations we encounter, but we are just going to have to take it one step at a time."

I nod, somehow not at all comforted by this. "Thank you." I say anyway, giving him a polite smile as he shakes my hand and leaves the room. I sit back down in the chair, putting my head in my hands and sighing. This is going to be a long day.

Shortly after, Callie is wheeled back into the room, and I stand expectantly, anxious to lay my eyes on her. "All is well, mom." Says a nurse with a kind smile. "She barely stirred." I let out a deep breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Thank God.

As they hook her up to their machines, a woman comes in to draw blood. Somehow I am the one who gets anxious this time as I see the needle, anticipating and dreading a reaction like the last. I lay my hand in her hair, smoothing it and whispering into her ear. The nurse prods lightly on her arm before sticking her, attaching tubes and filling them.

Callie clenches her teeth, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. She doesn't wake, but I hear her whisper "No." Hardly loud enough to hear, but I do. The nurse finishes rather quickly, withdrawing the needle and leaving. One hurdle passed. Several nurses are coming in now, pushing carts filled with casting and bandaging material. The doctor comes in just behind them, and I step forward to speak with him.

He confirms that both wrists are broken, her left wrist sustaining a complete break of the radius and ulna and over a dozen incomplete fractures. She also has several broken fingers on that hand. She has broken the radius in her right wrist, and has dozens of fractures and small broken bones all piled around her wrist.

They are concerned there is possible severe muscle/tendon damage to both wrists, as both wrists have the appearance of being separated, likely from severe maintained downward pressure. I feel rage burning inside of me, but try to keep it at bay. The thought of what this man did to my girl, how much she has suffered; I should have killed him.

The nurses get to work gently rinsing her left wrist of all of the dried blood, finally having a clean wrist to look at and see exactly what damage has been inflicted to the outside. The skin around her wrist is, well.. nonexistent. Likely from the pressure and rubbing, layer after layer of skin had been taken away, and there are several areas where the cuff had dug into her so hard that it had gotten down to muscle.

On top of that are deep and wide cuts to the outside of her thumb and pinky, probably from when she managed to pull herself out of the cuff, likely also when her fingers were broken. I watch as they clean her wrist, tears sliding quietly down my face as I continue to slowly stroke her cheek. They are wrapping her hand in bandaging, and I feel her grimace under my hands. I look down quickly, speaking to her softly and hoping to lull her back into sleep. It appears to work, as her features smooth out.

They are preparing to actually cast the wrist now, and warn me that the product they use makes a loud ripping noise. I place my hands over her ears, hoping to muffle it. As they begin working, they have to manipulate her hand quite a bit, and she stirs more than before, groaning, I assume from pain. I lay kisses on her forehead, trying to comfort her.

Her head lulls slightly to the side. "Mom." She murmurs, eyes still closed. My heart swells, and I want to wrap her up in my arms, rock her, and never let her go again. My sweet girl. The casting is loud, and Callie stirs several times, seeming frustrated, but never breaks out of the current state she is in. As they finish with her arm, I'm amazed. Another hurdle down. Maybe this will go easier than I expected. Oh, how much I hope.

They are bringing in new supplies this time, a sterile tray and instruments - including needles - in preparation of removing the handcuff. It is about this time when Lena rounds the corner into the room, her eyes frantic. Her hand immediately goes to her mouth as she sees Callie. She steps forward slowly.

"Here, Lena." I motion for her to come up by her head. "Oh, Stef." She mumbles. "What did they do to you, baby?" Lena asks nobody in particular as she places her fingers gently on Callie's cheek. She looks up at me, worried. "Why isn't she awake?" I shake my head. "She's just sedated right now, love. She was awake before. It's.. it's, um. It's really bad when she's awake. But they can't give her anymore sedation right now, so we are trying to keep her asleep." Lena frowns, but nods.

They begin rinsing her hand as much as they can before touching the cuff, wanting to see exactly what they're dealing with. It has clearly cut into the muscle tissue, and there's no way to know just yet what possible nerve damage it may have done. It hasn't been long enough for new skin to grow over the metal, but the amount of dried blood and swelling around it is going to cause severe pain upon removal.

They prepare a shot of lidocaine to numb the area, but let us know that it is highly likely she is going to feel this and react to it. My heart beats faster, anxiety filling me. As they give the shots of lidocaine, she jerks her head sharply. "Don't." She rasps. I see the nurses glance at each other cautiously. Her eyes are still shut, but her face is pained, and I'm concerned she is nearing the end of this peace.

Lena and I try speaking calmly to her, encouraging her to sleep. As they wait for the lidocaine to kick in, she quiets, but her expression remains disturbed. I quietly fill Lena in on some of what happened, her panic and newfound phobias of certain things. The doctor comes in, then, motioning me over.

"She unfortunately does have traces of both Cocaine and Opioids in her system, so she has definitely used at some point in the last 12-24 hours. We would like to try to avoid any sedative medications if we can, partly because of the Opioids and partly because of her airway issues. But a low dose of pain medication should be fine, and if truly needed, we can give some sedation." He gives me a smile.

I know I should be thankful, but instead, I just feel sick.


	16. Chapter 16

Stef POV

They are ready to remove the cuff, now, discussing the best way to go about it. I move back over beside Lena, gently brushing hair out of Callie's face. They've got a large amount of gauze ready, anticipating bleeding. As they begin to pull up one the one end, it dislodges slightly and Callie lets out a pained gasp, jerking her arm. The increased beeping of the monitor lets us all know without looking that she is not near as content as she was.

We continue our attempts to soothe her as we watch a steady stream of blood fall from her wrist to the tray below it, before a nurse leans in to press gauze against the area. As they pull up again, Callie cries out, eyes snapping open before rolling around. She looks incredibly dazed and afraid. Her heart rate climbs again. The nurses go still and quiet as Lena and I put ourselves as much in her sight as we can.

I've been mentally preparing for this since we got here, knowing it was inevitable. "Hey, baby." I give her a smile. "Everything is okay. I'm right here. And momma is here, too." She is quiet for a moment, blinking painfully against the bright lights as she alternates between trying to connect with me and Lena and attempting to understand her surroundings.

"You're in the hospital, love. You're being taken care of, and we're here with you to make sure nothing bad happens to you." She continues blinking rapidly. I position my hands slightly above her, trying to block the light. It seems to help her as she maintains eye contact with me, and I hear her heart rate slow down slightly.

"That's my girl. You're doing so well. Do you think you can try to sleep some more?" I ask, already knowing the answer. She gives me a slightly confused and wary look, her eyes move hazily to lock on to Lena. "I love you, Callie. You're safe with us." Lena steps in, hoping to reassure her further.

"We're going to continue. If she stays awake, try to speak with her as a distraction and keep her focused on you." A nurse whispers toward us. I stroke my hand through her hair, and her eyelids droop before opening back up again. I know when they prod the cuff again; the panic fills into her eyes, and she whimpers loudly, yanking against their hold.

"Callie, hey, listen to me." I say louder, holding her head in my hand softly but firmly as her eyes move quickly across the ceiling, trying to make out what she can. She keeps tension pulled against the hands holding her wrist steady. From her viewpoint, she cannot see any of the nurses, only me and Lena. "Bug, look at me. You're okay. We're going to help you, okay?" Lena assures her. Callie's eyes find her face, fear and confusion still laced inside them.

"Relax your arm, sweetie. It's okay. I've got you." Her eyes flit across the ceiling again, and I suspect that not allowing her to see anyone else in this room is the best thing possible for her. She relaxes her arm a bit - not entirely - but slightly. "That's my girl!" I exclaim proudly at her.

"You're doing so great, you know that?" Lena whispers. She holds my eyes again, looking slightly less afraid. "Mom." She whispers. "Yes, sweets?" Her eyelids dip down before she brings herself back. "Love. you. moms." She rasps, and I feel my soul fill with all of the love in the world. "Oh, baby. We love you, too. We love you so, so much." Lena says, as I bend down and kiss her gently on the cheek. They give her a couple of minutes break, hoping for her to relax more.

I know the instant they make a larger attempt to dislodge the cuff. She cries out, gasping, pulling against them without relenting, this time. There is a significant and immediate increase in the sound of her heart beating. "Baby." I say firmly "It's okay. You're okay." Her eyes are darting everywhere, far more lucid. _too lucid_ , I think.

When she can't free her right arm, she lifts her left, seeming to be momentarily confused and frightened at the new weight she finds there. She lets out a groan, using her arm to push against Lena. "Honey, I need you to put your arm back down. Everything is okay." Lena tries to calm her. One of the nurses reaches forward to grasp her left arm, and I quickly shake my head at them. "No, no. She's fine. Any form of being held will only make things worse." I say quietly.

"I really need this wrist back in position." One of the nurses calls out. Callie hears this other voice, it seeming to sink in to her that there are others in the room. She freezes, staring at my face as I watch her filling with panic. _Fuck._ I'm afraid we are fighting a losing battle. "Honey, focus on me. They are just nurses. They're not going to hurt you. You are okay, love." She ignores me as she pulls her right arm harder, doing the exact opposite of what they just said, gritting her teeth through the pain.

Someone tries to pull her arm back more forcefully, and I see fear burn in her eyes. Lena's talking now. "Please, please listen to me honey, you are okay." We are desperate for her to hear what we are saying, to be able to calm her down, but it's clearly not working. More nurses and the doctor have entered the room, standing by. Thank god she can't seem them, or she would really be losing it.

The doctor leans in toward the nurses, instructing them to continue trying to remove the cuff as best they can, hoping to have it finished quickly. "You've been doing so well, can you keep doing that for me?" I question, trying to keep eye contact with her as she continues trying to see around the room.

They pull on the cuff once more, managing to painfully free another part, and immediately the fight is back on. "No! No, no, no." She sobs, still pulling against their hands. I'm speaking to her, but I can tell that my words are no longer reaching her. She raises her left arm and gives me a solid whack to the side with it, lashing out at the only person she can see. It hurts a bit from the cast, but doesn't bother me otherwise.

I see several people step forward, ready to help, and the pit of dread in my stomach is growing rapidly. I look desperately at Lena, who looks almost as pale now as Callie does, and I fleetingly wonder if she is going to pass out. "Callie, everything is okay, baby. Look. At. Me." I instruct, rewarded only with a passing glance as she continues her struggle; not at all the reaction I was hoping for.

She lifts her left arm again, swinging out blindly and surprisingly strongly in an attempt to hit someone, anyone. A nurse steps forward and grabs hold of her arm, halting her movements. I see her eyes flood with tears and pure overwhelming panic, and I know I'm losing her into a world blinded by desperation and instinct.

She increases her struggle, pulling back against them so viciously that there's no way they could even try to remove the cuff, it's like trying to hit a moving target. She has added her feet into the struggle this time, kicking out at anything. I am still speaking to her, but she doesn't even glance at me or Lena anymore, eyes constantly on the search for her attackers.

We try to ride it out, hoping that after a short while of seeing that nothing worse is happening, we will be able to bring her down enough to continue. After 5 minutes of everyone being in a standstill, she is still struggling. "Let's go ahead and give her a shot of morphine, see if that affects her pain and brings her fear down to a more manageable place." The doctor advises as a nurse preps the medication. She is sweating, her heart rate reaching into the 140s, her nasal cannula knocked off once again as she is rapidly panting for breath.

I feel as though I am watching the same exact scenario happen all over again, and her fear crushes my soul. A nurse administers the medication directly into her IV, and we all pray for it to help. Quickly, her heart rate comes down, though still remaining high at 110. A nurse comes over with an oxygen mask, attempting to fasten it to her face as she ducks her head. "Don't want!" She yells roughly. "Callie, baby, you need the oxygen. I know you don't like it but it will make you feel better." Lena comforts. I let my hand stroke her cheek as I help the nurse slip the mask on.

After several more minutes, mine and Lena's soothing is apparently not soothing in the least, because although her heart rate and sp02 are decent, she continues to fight whenever any movement is made to work on her wrist.

The doctor steps in at this point, speaking with a nurse. "Let's go ahead and give her 1mg/kg Ketamine." He turns to look at me and Lena. "We are going to administer a sedative. It should begin taking effect within a matter of just a couple of minutes. It lasts about 15 minutes, so depending on how things go, we may have to re-administer more." We nod, understanding the necessity. Both of us are anxious, but we try to push it down to be strong for Callie. She is still sweating, her hair sticking to her forehead. "No drugs." She whispers, tears falling from her eyes. "You're going to be okay, love. It isn't what you think." I reassure, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek as the nurse administers the sedation.

Within' maybe a minute, everything takes a 180 as the sedative kicks in. Her limbs slacken, and she struggles to keep her eyes open, seeming frustrated by this. "You're doing great, bug." Lena tells her, combing her fingers through her hair. "Okay, we should be good to continue, now." James states before turning to leave the room. The nurses reposition Callie's arm easily, holding it in place as they prepare to finally remove the cuff.

It takes several more pulls and maneuvering to release her wrist. Callie whimpers only a few times, although her eyes only open briefly, and she does not move. I notice Lena has been oddly quiet for a few minutes, and I glance up at her. She is white as a ghost, and I follow her gaze to the large pool of blood gathered on the tray below Callie's wrist. The handcuffs are lying to the side, also covered in a sickening amount of blood and what appears to be clumps of... skin. I instantly regret looking.

"Lena." I duck my head, trying to get her attention. "Lena," I say more forcefully, and she jumps this time, looking at me. "Go sit down." I tell her, honestly afraid she is about to faint. She swallows and nods, making her way unsteadily over to the chairs. "I'll go get you some orange juice." The nurse says, catching sight of her.

They begin flushing Callie's wrist, discussing the need for stitches. She shifts slightly, mumbling, her eyes fighting to stay open as the sedation begins to wear off. "Let's give her another dose while we get this stitched up." The doctor advises. My eyes shut as I turn back to Callie, smoothing a few stray tears away from her face. "You're such a brave girl, Cal. You're so strong, and this is going to be over soon, I promise you."

They begin working to stitch up a few spots on her wrist, things moving quickly now. Shortly after they finish, she begins stirring again. I continue talking to her, promising her she is safe, but tears still fall freely from her eyes. A much better looking Lena rejoins me at Callie's head, and we both try to distract and encourage her. While she isn't entirely aware and capable yet, she makes no effort at all to move, even as the nurses continue with bandaging and casting her hand and wrist. She looks defeated and exhausted, seeming to have given up any attempts at fighting us, and my heart sinks at how helpless and out of control she must feel.

Once they've finished her cast, much of the staff disperses, much to my relief. Callie remains motionless, appearing to still be dissociating herself from the situation. The doctor decides it would be best to give her a little while to rest with just Lena and I in the room before they take her back for her MRI. I'm thankful for this, hoping she may come back to us somewhat. As they release her arm, she draws it slowly and protectively toward herself, grimacing from the pain.

They raise the head of the bed, keeping her reclining but not flat back like before, and remove the oxygen mask to replace it with a cannula. Callie ducks her head in disapproval as the nurse fumbles with the mask, before she seems to understand that it's being removed. She stills, then, seeming to appreciate the change. As the last nurse leaves the room, Lena and I pull up chairs to sit next to her.

I leave my hand resting on the bed, near her, but not touching. She still seems incredibly dissociated, and I'm just not sure that anybody's touch would feel comforting to her right now. Lena seems to have the same train of thought, nearly mirroring my position on the opposite side.

Our eyes meet across the bed, our broken daughter between us. Tears swim in my eyes, and I try to blink them away. "We'll get through this." Lena says with so much confidence that I find I can almost believe her.

Almost.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I just want to say THANK YOU to those who have left reviews. I'm so appreciative and humbled you would take your time to show your support for this story. If anyone has any ideas for what they would like to see at any point down the road, don't hesitate to offer ideas in a review! I can't guarantee I can work it in, but I appreciate all new thoughts and angles. 3

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Stef POV

We 3 have been sitting together in silence for about 20 minutes now. Callie has become a bit more alert, though the distant look in her eyes has gone nowhere, if anything it seems to have intensified. It feels like part of her is not even here with us.

"What's going on in that beautiful head of yours, huh?" I question, my tone light, hoping to reconnect with her. She frowns slightly, but gives no other reaction. It breaks my heart to see her this way.

"Where are you at, love?" I prod gently, wanting her back with me, afraid of where her brain may be wandering. This time she does respond. "S'mwhere safe." She mumbles. "Okay.." I agree, though not sure what she means. "Where's that?" I ask.

"You know you are safe here with me and momma, don't you?" I push when she does not answer my previous question. Lena squeezes my hand and gives me a look, warning me to tread lightly. I shrug.. I'm not pushing too hard, I don't think.

Callie glances at me, her eyes searching, and I'm thankful for even the smallest progress of bringing her back to me. "Yeah." she says, unconvincing. She faces forward again, her frown returning. "Don't like the people." She explains. My heart hurts for her.

"I know you don't. What can we do to make you feel safer when they are around?" I'm praying that if she answers any question, it will be this one. "Mm go away." She says roughly, sounding agitated just by thinking about it. I can't help but feel hurt by this statement, her wanting us to leave.

"You want me and momma to leave when they come?" I ask, hoping for clarification. Her head turns quickly my way, eyes bright and afraid. "No!" She tries to yell. "No, don't leave!" She starts reaching toward me with her hands, trying to lean forward as though she's afraid I'm actually leaving.

"Okay, okay, honey. We're not going anywhere, it's okay!" I comfort her, standing in front of her to brush my hand across her face again. "I just wanted to know what you were meaning. We won't leave you if you don't want us to." She lifts her left arm toward my face, and I hold her hand softly in mine, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

"Don't leave. Meant make them. Leave." She stutters out. I understand, now. The way to make her feel safe when they are around, is to make them leave. I give her a sad smile. "I wish we could, baby, but we have to get you fixed up before we can do that."

As if on cue, a couple nurses walk in, and I see the fearfully defensive look Callie gets in her eye. Lena and I rub small, slow, circles over her arms, trying to ease her mind. Lena explains their presence to Callie, hoping to ease her fears. "They're going to take you back in a minute to get an MRI of your head and neck, Cal. Mom and I won't be allowed into that room with you, but we will come with you all the way to the door and will wait right outside of it. It will only take a little while, then we'll be right back by your side."

She glances back and forth between me and Lena, eyes worried, and I swear she has never looked more like a child in desperate need of her mothers. "Don't leave me." she whispers, her voice cracking. I rub my hand gently up and down her arm as I answer her. "We won't leave you. We will still be able to see you from the glass in the door, and we will make sure nobody hurts you. I promise you that. But you have to be very still when you're in there. Nobody is going to touch you, you just have to lay still. Do you think you can do that for us, sweets?"

I know that this has to be done no matter what, but I also know it is vitally important to encourage her to feel as though she's making decisions and has power over her life and body again, even in the smallest of ways. She had none of that with Russell, and so far she has had none of that since she was rescued, either. I am certain that much of her fear is caused by feeling as though she has no say about what happens to her.

She sits quiet for a moment before nodding her head hesitantly. Lena smiles. "You're such a brave girl, Callie. I'm proud of you. We will keep you safe." The nurses walk over and unlock the brakes on the bed, beginning to wheel her out of the room and down the hall. We follow right beside her, never letting our hands come off her arms until we reach the MRI room, and she has to go in alone. We each kiss her on the forehead and remind her we will be only a few feet away, watching and waiting for her. She says nothing as the door closes behind them, and I find myself anxious for her, praying this nightmare will end soon.

Lena and I look at each other, both letting out deep sighs at the same time. This has undoubtedly been the most heart wrenching day of our lives. "It's like she's not even the same girl." Lena whispers. We are watching over her like hawks from outside the room.

I want to disagree with her, but find I can't. "She's still in there." Is all I manage to say. Lena nods slowly, unconvinced. "She is, Lena. Our stubborn, strong girl is in there. She wouldn't be alive if she wasn't." I know the words are true as soon as they are out of my mouth. Lena grasps my hand, squeezing. "You're right. It's just such a shock to see the difference. I'm so used to defensive, defiant Callie.. It's so difficult to see her so vulnerable." I nod in agreement. There's no doubt at that.

"So, how are we going to handle the rest of this? She has this to get done, and then the sexual assault exam which I imagine is going to be the worst part of the day. The doctor said they want to keep her for a couple days, at least. She's already got a bed in the pediatric ward, and we can both stay the whole night here. We need to get our things, though, and bring clothes and stuff for her." I'm getting overwhelmed.

"I should've packed that stuff on my way here, I just was so worried about her I didn't even think like that." Lena explains apologetically. "I know, love, no worries. We just have to figure it out from here. Which one of us is going to go do that?" I question. Lena's quick to respond. "I'll do it. I see the way she looks at you. You've been here through everything today; you're the one who found her. She needs you more to hold onto to get through things right now."

I can't really argue that, so just nod. "How about when she gets out, we will let her know what's going on?" Lena agrees, and together we go silent again, holding hands and watching over our sweet girl.

Nearly 30 minutes later, she is finally finished and being wheeled back into her hospital room. It felt as though she were gone for hours as we got increasingly concerned that she would get triggered by something while in there all alone. Tears are welled up in her eyes, but she remains quiet.

The nurses leave us in the room alone again, and we sit back down in the chairs next to her bed. I let my hand rest on her arm. "I know that was hard, but you did a really great job, Callie." I reassure her. "You're almost finished with all of the poking and prodding, baby. I know you must be so tired." Lena sympathizes, and a tear breaks free to streak down Callie's cheek. What we wouldn't give to take away the pain she feels.

"Baby, I'm going to go home real quick to pack a bag of stuff for you, me, and mom to stay the night here, is that okay with you?" Lena seeks Callie's face for an answer. Callie nods slightly.

"Is there anything in particular you want, Cal? A book, specific clothes, a blanket?" I question.

"Blanket." She murmurs back, looking down, and I suspect she's ashamed.

"Hey," Lena says, putting her finger under Callie's chin to lift her head slightly. "I'll bring lots. These hospital blankets suck, huh?" She smiles warmly, and Callie gives a small smile back at her. Baby steps. Lena gets up to leave, giving Callie a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back soon.

Callie and I return to sitting in silence when a nurse comes into the room, carrying a tray with some food and a bottle of water. "Hi there, Callie!" She says kindly, but I feel Callie stiffen beside me.

"We want to get some food in you, and figured you must be pretty thirsty as well. The water will feel good on your throat. Would you like one of us to help you, or your mom?" She asks.

Callie is quick to respond. "Mom." She states confidently, and I see how the nurse has made it a point to give her a choice in what happens. I smile gratefully at her. Even if Callie doesn't realize it, these small choices will begin to help her feel more in control.

"Okay Miss Callie, well I will leave you guys to it, then." She sets the tray down on the table and walks back out.

I rise and take a look at what they've given her: jello, pudding, and some chicken broth. "Would you like to eat or drink something first, Cal?" I look back at her. "Drink." she rasps. I twist the cap off the water bottle, sticking a straw in it and holding it to her lips. She sucks the water down slowly, carefully, before pulling away.

"Nice." she whispers, almost to herself, and I smile. "Does it feel good on your throat, baby?" She nods, opening her mouth for more. She has drunk nearly half the bottle before she pulls away. "Am okay." She says, although it comes out more in the form of a question than a statement. I take note of this in my head. She has said this several times today, and it seems this has become her new word for telling someone to stop.

"Are you hungry?" I question. She seems to think for a minute. "Dunno." She says, shrugging lightly. "Okay. Well, when did you last eat?" I ask gently, knowing we are getting into slightly dangerous territory.

She hesitates before answering. "Dunno." She says again, quieter this time. "That's okay, sweets. Why don't we give it a shot and see how you feel. What would you like to try?"

She bites her lip. "Jello." She decides. I quickly open it, spooning out a very, very small portion for her to try. I hold it to her lips and she takes it, but as soon as it is in her mouth, she wretches immediately; spitting it out directly onto her lap.

"Don't like. Don't like it." She says, gasping. She reaches up with her arms in an unsuccessful attempt to wipe away any remnants of it from her mouth, seeming panicked. I quickly reach up with a napkin to wipe her mouth. "Don't like. Am okay." She repeats, and I sense there is something more to the situation.

"Okay, we can try something else baby, that's okay. Take a deep breath. Here, have a drink of water." I hold the drink out for her, encouraging her to lay her arms back down. She takes a few sips of the water, then leans her head back and closes her eyes, sighing.

I set down the bottle and grab some paper towels from across the room, cleaning up the jello she rejected. I suspect why that may have been difficult for her, but I try very hard to push the images and thoughts from my mind. Now is not the time.

"I'm sorry." She mumbles, refusing to make eye contact as I wipe up the mess. I look at her seriously. "You have nothing at all to be sorry for. Do you understand? Nothing at all. It is okay. Now, how about you try the broth? I bet the warmth will feel good on your throat." I suggest the broth, it being most like water. I suspect she would react the same way to the pudding as she did the jello.

She nods without much enthusiasm, and I hold a spoonful to her lips. She slurps the tiniest amount she possibly can, seeming to test the waters before committing. She seems satisfied that she can tolerate this, and swallows the rest of it.

She manages to get down 5 spoonfuls before she turns away any more. "Am okay." She says, and concern grows inside me. She has lost so much weight, and a few spoonfuls of soup is not going to help her in any way. But, now is not the time to push it.

I dim the lights a bit before I sit back in the chair beside her, hoping that with the slight break she has had, that she will be able to drift off. Not long after, the doctor leans in, motioning me toward him. I stand and walk to the door, not leaving the room, but standing outside of Callie's earshot.

"She does appear to have some pretty severe laryngeal swelling. We definitely need to keep an eye on her, if it gets aggravated, it could swell further and cause her to have an episode of acute respiratory distress. She should heal well, but only time will tell. It could take a while for her to even begin feeling as though it has gotten better. We may do another MRI if her symptoms haven't begun to ease up within' a week. I'm going to send a nurse in in about half an hour to get her set up for the rape kit, and you will need to decide how you want us to go about that.. I am fairly certain she won't tolerate it well without being sedated. After that, we will let her shower and then clean up and bandage the wounds on her body." He glances up at her, sympathy in his eyes. I feel like I'm about to vomit even thinking about putting her through that right now, but I nod anyway. "Okay. Thank you." I say again before returning to my chair.

Callie watches me as I sit down, and I hope I am doing well at hiding my anxiety about the upcoming rape kit. I look up at her and give her a smile. "Love. You." She whispers, her lips pulling up into the smallest of smiles for a brief second. It is enough to make my heart burst with happiness."Oh, sweets. I love you, too. More than you'll ever know." I tell her earnestly, holding her hand in mine, rubbing her fingers gently.


	18. Chapter 18

Stef POV

We sit together quietly for about 10 minutes before I gather the courage needed to break her peace and tell her about the upcoming exam. "Callie, love. There is one more thing that the doctor needs to do." I trail off, dreading even telling her. "I think it's probably going to be very hard for you, baby, and I want you to know that I won't leave you. I will make sure that anything we can give you to make you feel more comfortable, we will."

I look her in the eyes, trying to get my sincerity and honesty across. She gulps, panic entering her eyes again. "What?" she asks, defensive. "We need to do something that's called a rape kit. The doc-" I'm not even finished, and Callie is shaking her head vehemently. "Am okay, mom." Her voice trembles.

"Sweetheart, I wish that were true. I wish so much that we didn't need to do this, but we need to make sure that all of your injuries are taken care of. Do you understand? I won't leave you alone, and I won't let anything bad happen to you." I hope I am coming across as reassuring, but her demeanor makes me doubt it.

Tears are spilling quietly down her face, and she stares blankly at the ceiling, appearing to be blocking me out. "I'm so sorry, love." I reach for her hand, desperate to offer some comfort, but she jerks away from my me. The next 20 minutes are excruciating. Callie is clearly dissociated, though fear runs rampant in her deep brown eyes. She refuses to look at me or accept any comfort or touch I offer.

I can't blame her. I know she doesn't fully understand, and my agreement that this needs to be done must feel like an awful betrayal to her. God, how I wish I could make her realize that I would give anything to trade places with her in an instant, so that she didn't have to go through any of this.

The curtain to the room is pulled back as the doctor walks in. "Hi there, Miss Callie!" He speaks cheerfully, not at all reflecting the mood of the room. Defensiveness returns to her with a vengeance, and she clenches her jaw instead of answering him.

"I'm going to explain to you the last thing we need to do to make sure you're truly overall okay." He pulls up a rolling stool, sitting, speaking mostly to Callie, but also myself.

"We need to do something that is called a sexual assault kit. What we will do is inspect you for any serious tears or other injuries, and we will also gather some evidence in the form of pictures and some simple things like combings and fingernail clippings." He pauses, judging her response.

"Hopefully it won't take very long. Depending on what we find, it will probably take us about 45 minutes." As he speaks, Callie has grown paler and paler, now looking frantically around the room. "Am okay." She insists, attempting to be firm, but her voice comes out weak. She turns toward me, then, acknowledging me for the first time since I told her about this.

"Please, mom." She whispers, breaking my heart. "We can give you some medication, Callie, something to make it easier on you. Would that help?" The doctor asks her directly. "Don't want!" She shakes her head, fear filling her voice now as well. "No drugs, please, no." She says, continuing to shake her head. "Callie love, these are different, honey. These are prescribed medications. They won't hurt you, and I will be here to protect you." I grip her arm gently, rubbing my hands against her skin, trying to get her to focus.

"Do you want to try to have the exam without any medication?" The doctor asks, frowning slightly. "No exam.. Am okay." she states, her arm twitching. My heart breaks for her, knowing there is no way around this. "Callie, honey. You have to have the exam, baby." I try to be as gentle as possible. "There was a lot of blood, and it's possible that you are injured." I'm trying to be calm and steady, a rock she can hold onto.

Tears fill her eyes, and she looks at me like I have struck her. She pulls her hand away from me, and I feel guilt envelop me. I can't help but feel that I'm slowly becoming her monster instead of her rock, forcing her to do these things. I try to get these thoughts out of my head. Right now certainly isn't the time for self-pity.

"I'm going to get a nurse to help me, and we are going to bring some stuff in here for the exam." The doctor rises, walking out the door. More tears slip down Callie's cheeks, and she sniffles, trying uselessly to wipe away her tears before finally giving up.

"I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry you have to go through this." I tell her, tears filling my own eyes now. She doesn't respond. The doctor and nurse come back in, rolling in a small cart. "I thought we could start with some of the simpler stuff, such as the nail clippings and photos." The nurse explains, pulling out evidence bags and setting things up.

"All I'm going to do is clip your nails, Callie, just like you would normally do." She explains, carefully taking her hands and trimming her nails, placing the clippings in a bag. The process is over within' 5 minutes. "You're doing great, Callie." I encourage her.

"Alright, now I'm just going to take some photos of your injuries. All I need you to do is just sit here." She turns the camera on, and begins shooting. This, too, goes by relatively quickly. By this point, Callie's tears have dried on her cheeks.

"You're almost done. We just have to do the main exam, now, and then we will be finished." The doctor says, putting on gloves. As the nurse extends the stirrups out off of the bed, Callie begins breathing heavier, her heart rate spiking. She begins pulling her feet up, turning herself to try to get off the bed.

"Whoa, sweets, you've gotta stay here for a minute okay?" I hold her steady, pulling her gently back toward me. She shakes her head again, refusing to accept this. "Okay, Callie, we're going to lay you flat down now." The nurse eases the head of the bed down, and Callie tries to jolt forward.

I lay my hand on her face, brushing back and forth with my thumb. "Easy, sweets. Just lay down. I'm right here." I reassure. She lays back down unwillingly, likely only out of pain. The doctor is explaining what he's going to do as he grasps one her legs, putting it into the stirrup.

"Hey, you're going to be okay. I'm right here with you, love." I wipe away the fresh tears falling from her face. She lets out a cry as they pull her other leg into position, her heart beating faster. She begins to panic, trying to use her arms to pull herself up. She pulls both legs out of the stirrups, banging her right leg hard on the metal as she tries to get away.

The doctor backs up immediately, saying something to the nurse. "Callie, love, it's okay. Take a breath, sweetheart." I try to encourage her as I hold her gently, keeping her from getting off the bed. She struggles against me, frustrated and in pain.

"I'm going to highly suggest that sedation would help make this a lot easier on her, but we need your permission to do that." James says, speaking directly to me now. "Okay." I agree, fairly certain this exam will only be able to get accomplished this way.

The nurse pulls up medication, coming over and reaching for Callie's IV. "Don't want drugs!" Her voice breaks, and she struggles to keep her arm away from the nurse. "Sweetheart, this is going to make it a lot easier for you. You are just going to take a nap, and when you wake up, everything will be over. I promise I'll keep you safe." I help the nurse get hold of her IV, and she pushes the sedative.

Again, it's a nearly instant effect. Her body relaxes, her limbs going slack as she loses the ability to hold herself up. I ease her down, cradling her head. Quickly after that, she loses the ability to keep her eyes open, and her breathing evens out as her heart rate drops.

The doctor moves forward again, slowly putting her legs into the stirrups. The nurse lays a sheet over her legs while the doctor pulls the overhead light over him. I use one hand to let Callie's head rest on my arm, and the other holds her fingers gently in mine, rubbing softly.

"You're going to feel some pressure now, Callie. We're going to go very slowly." The doctor warns, an attempt to prepare her in case she is still aware. I feel her fingers twitch in mine, and my heart drops, terrified she may still be feeling all of this.

I focus on speaking soothingly to her, just in case she can hear me. I can hear the doctor and nurse speaking back and forth about things, but I give all of my focus to Callie.

After a while, I sneak a quick glance at the doctor's face. He looks disturbed, and I instantly regret my decision to look at him. He doesn't appear as though he has any good news. "Well," He sighs. "There are some fairly severe tears that we need to go ahead and stitch up. I will be numbing the area first. It should take about 15 more minutes here."

I swallow back the bile in my throat, trying not to let my mind get caught up in the slow and torturous ways I want to murder the men who did this to her. It has been almost 10 minutes when Callie begins to stir, coming off the sedation. "She's waking up." I tell them, trying not to sound as nervous as I feel about this. "That's okay, she'll still be a bit dazed. Just talk to her, I will be done here in just a moment."

I swallow my nerves, imagining how uncomfortable and scary this will be for her to wake up to. Her head rolls to the other side before turning back toward me, her eyes blink lazily. I see mostly confusion in them. "Hi, love." I speak, capturing her attention. "Everything is okay. You are almost finished. You've done great." I squeeze her arm gently.

She blinks again, her fingers twitching, but this time there is obvious fear in her eyes. She gives her leg a jerk, a whimper escaping her mouth. The nurse gently grabs hold of her leg, keeping it there. "Hold on, baby, you're almost done. Just hold still for another minute, okay? Everything's alright." I brush her hair out of her face.

She goes still, tears pooling in her eyes. "Hurting me?" She whispers, sounding as defeated as she looks. My heart breaks all over for her. "Oh, sweets. It's not what you think, honey. I wouldn't let that happen. The doctor is just examining you, but it's almost over, okay?" I try to reassure her.

"Okay, we are all done here. Callie, it's going to be a little uncomfortable as I remove this. Just focus on your breathing." The doctor warns her, slowly removing the speculum. She groans, letting out a whimper. "You're okay, love. I'm right here." I hold her hand, hoping to ground her.

"Perfect, you're all done." James states, backing off while the nurse lowers Callie's legs and covers her back up with a blanket. The doctor turns to me.

"So like I said, there were quite a few bad tears and a significant amount of bruising. We stitched everything up, but she is going to continue bleeding for a while, especially when she urinates, so don't be alarmed. This could last a few days or more than a week, it just depends on how she heals. The pain will take longer to go away. We will keep her on pain medication to keep her as comfortable as possible. The good news is her blood work came back negative for pregnancy. We've also swabbed for STDs, and we will get those results back in a day or 2." He explains. I find myself dumb-struck, alternating between horror and relief at what he has said. I hadn't even begun thinking about the possibility of STDs and pregnancy, I have been so distracted by everything else. I'm overwhelmingly relieved she isn't pregnant, but now my mind is swirling with what else she may have contracted.

"Okay. Thank you." I try to sound calmer than I feel, again being filled with rage at the people who hurt her this badly. "Sure." He gives me a half-hearted smile, taking off his gloves and turning to wash his hands.

Callie keeps her eyes squeezed closed, not acknowledging anyone, even once they've left the room. I'm rubbing circles on her arm when I realize her skin is becoming slick with sweat, and her heart rate has audibly increased.

"Hey, baby, can you look at me?" I ask. I receive no response, but notice that her chest is heaving, and her eyes are still screwed shut. It dawns on me that she could be having a flashback.

"Hey, Callie. I want you to open your eyes." I speak seriously, rubbing my hand on her arm a bit firmer, trying to get her attention. She shakes her head rapidly, refusing to open her eyes.

"Honey, do you know where you are right now?" I question. She opens her mouth as though she's going to answer, then shuts it. A tear falls from her eyes. "He's coming back." She whispers, sounding petrified.

"No, Callie. He's not. Nobody is coming back. You are in the hospital right now, and I am here with you. You are safe." I reassure. She cracks an eye open, looking at me with distrust before glancing around the room, finding it empty. Now she appears confused. "He was here." She says determinedly.

"The doctor was, yes, but only him." I watch her carefully, relieved when I hear her heart rate dropping. One of the nurses comes in, then, asking Callie if she wants to take a shower. "Yes." Callie says, sounding more sure of this than anything else so far.


	19. Chapter 19

Stef POV

"Great, we will go ahead and take you over to one of the empty rooms that has a shower in it whenever you're ready." She explains, unfolding a wheelchair in the corner. Callie doesn't hesitate. "Ready." She begins trying to shift to get off the bed. "Whoa, hold up there love, let me help you." I offer, lowering the bed and helping her to turn so she is sitting on the side of the bed.

The nurse comes over, and together we slowly help her off the bed and into the wheelchair. As the nurse begins pushing her out of the room, Callie seems to panic. "Mom!" She rasps out, trying to crane her neck around the nurse to see me. I hurry up alongside her. "I'm coming, love, I'm coming. I won't leave you." She relaxes slightly as I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Okay, Callie. This is mostly going to be a sponge bath because of your casts, and you're going to need help with that. You can choose between me or your mom to help you. Who would you like?" The nurse poses the question, and I'm surprised at how long it takes Callie to answer her. It is long enough of a pause that the nurse questions her again.

"You." She says quietly, requesting the nurse. She glances up at me with a guilty expression, instantly dropping her gaze as we make eye contact. "Hey, it's okay, sweets. I don't mind. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable is all that's important." I give her a reassuring smile. While her answer does surprise me, it doesn't hurt my feelings.

The nurse wheels her into what is essentially a large bathroom that has been turned entirely into a shower stall. There is a shower curtain that pulls across halfway, and as the nurse pushes her near the shower head, she pulls the shower curtain closed. I'm left on the other side, hesitating.

"Callie, do you want me to stay in this room behind the curtain, or do you want me to wait outside?" I'm unsure what would be best at this point. "Stay." She answers, barely loud enough for me to hear. "Okay, bug, I will be right here." I confirm, sitting down in the chair in the corner.

I hear the shower kick on, louder than I expected. After a few minutes, I find myself bouncing my leg, feeling anxiety creeping in. I know I'm only just across the room from her, but not being able to have eyes on her makes me feel incredibly unnerved. I have to bite my tongue several times to stop myself from asking if she is doing okay.

Callie lets out a pained cry and I'm instantly on my feet, anger flooding my veins at the sound. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." I hear the nurse say, sounding sincere. It takes everything in me to not yank the curtain open. "Are you okay, Callie?" I can't stop myself from asking, this time. "Fine." Callie answers, sounding exhausted.

I hesitantly sit back down, chewing my lip. After 20 minutes, the shower finally cuts off. I exhale as soon as she is wheeled back into my sight, not realizing how tense I had been. She looks up at me, and I think I see some anxiety relieved in her eyes, as well. "You feel better?" I question, already knowing the answer. She nods strongly. Her wet hair clings to her, and she somehow looks even smaller.

When we get back to the room, Lena is there waiting for us. She stands as soon as she sees us, rushing over to give Callie a kiss on the head. "I'm sorry it took me so long! There was an accident and traffic was at a standstill." She looks guilty, as though she has failed. I already knew about this, as we had been texting back and forth, her updating me with how far away she was and I updating her on how the exams were going.

"S'ok." Callie says, letting us help her back into the bed. I notice then that someone has changed the sheets on the bed, and I'm grateful to be rid of the previous blood-stained ones.

"Okay Callie, the only thing left to do now is just put ointment on your wounds and bandage them up. I'll try to be as gentle and quick as possible." The nurse pulls a cart over, getting out a few different bottles of stuff. Callie looks disheartened, and I can only imagine how absolutely sick she must be of being poked and prodded at.

"Is it okay if I pull your gown forward so I can treat what's on your back?" The nurse asks Callie, seeking permission. She shrugs, and the nurse begins patching her up. Callie flinches a few times, but otherwise remains calm and still. "You're doing great, Cal." I encourage her, Lena and I in front of her, offering support. It takes about 15 minutes, and then the nurse begins to move to the front of her.

"Wait!" Callie jerks as the nurse tries to move her gown. She looks up at us, panicked. "D-Don't look.." She whispers, dropping her gaze to look at her hands, the guilt radiating off of her. Lena squeezes her hand. "Okay, sweets, that's okay. We won't look. Do you want us to turn around?" I ask. She nods in response. Both Lena and I turn, staring straight ahead as the nurse continues bandaging her wounds.

I want to chance a look at Lena, but I can feel Callie's eyes staring holes into our backs, and there's no way I will risk her thinking we are disregarding what she has requested. Lena seems to have the same idea.

Finally I hear things being put away. "Okay, we're all done." The nurse confirms, and both Lena and I turn back around. "We will be moving you to the Pediatric ICU in about a half hour or so." The nurse advises, giving us a smile as she leaves the room.

"Well, I bet that's a relief. You're all done, love. Time to go get set up in a place to recover for a couple of days, huh?" I try to get Callie to look at me, but she seems to be avoiding eye-contact. "It's more than time for you to get some rest, honey." Lena agrees. She mumbles something incoherent in response.

"I-I need. To pee." Callie whispers shortly after, her voice tight with anxiety. "Okay, let me grab a nurse." Lena says, getting up. The nurse comes in, pulling a bedpan out of one of the cabinets. "We are going to lift you up a little bit and place this under you, Callie, and then you just let me know when you are done." She explains.

Lena and I help lift her slightly so the nurse can slide the bedpan under her. It doesn't take much effort; she weighs about as much as a feather. I'm about to ask if she wants us to leave the room, but she immediately begins peeing. She continues for so long that I start to get worried, wondering why she hasn't said anything sooner if she had to go so badly.

"Kay." Callie says, a blush rising to her face. We repeat the process of lifting her, the nurse pulling the bedpan out. I don't mean to, but automatically glance down. I freeze at the overwhelming amount of blood in the bedpan. I swallow thickly. _Breathe. The doctor said that would be normal._

After we get settled back down, Lena gasps suddenly, jumping up from her chair beside the bed. Callie jumps, breath catching in her throat. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare you, I just remembered something." She exclaims, fumbling through the bags she brought from home. She pulls out a large blanket a moment later, turning around with a wide grin on her face. "I almost forgot that I brought you blankets! Do you want it on you?" Callie gives a small smile, nodding.

We pull the hospital blanket off her, replacing it with her own just as a few nurses come in, ready to move her to an actual room on the floor. They grab another round of vitals, first. "How is your pain right now, Callie?" She shrugs. They don't seem to mind, simply restating their question. "On a scale of 1 - 10, 10 being the absolute worst pain you've ever felt, what number would you give it?" She chews her lip, shrugging slightly again. "Dunno..7?"

"Uh oh, that's pretty high!" The nurse says, frowning. "Let us know whenever it starts getting bad, so we can give you some medication to manage it." She reaches over, pressing the Morphine button 2 times. "That should help ease the pain for you." Callie grits her teeth, seeming overwhelmed and upset. I cock my head at her, rubbing my hand on her arm. She doesn't acknowledge my questioning gaze.

It is a huge relief when we get her into her new room. This one is much more spacious, with dimmer lights, and a lot more privacy - like a door that is kept closed. They wheel her bed into place, locking it. "You're going to have new nurses now, but we wish you the best, Callie. You take it easy." Their sincerity touches my heart, knowing they see patients in and out all day long, I appreciate the compassion they have toward my daughter.

Callie seems to be fighting to stay awake, I'm assuming from a combination of the Morphine and the incredibly intense day she has had. We get her settled in, turning all the lights down and taking our time tucking her in.

I take a seat by the window in one of the 2 chairs in the room, Lena sitting beside me. She picks up a magazine, pretending to pay attention to it. Meanwhile, I stare blatantly at our girl. I watch her eyelids droop down, her head nod. She jerks her head back up almost immediately, eyes opening wide, blinking rapidly.

This pattern happens over and over again until I finally can't stand it anymore. "I'm going to close the blinds and curtains, love. Maybe you can try to get some sleep?" I encourage. She glances over at us. "Mmk." She whispers.

I shut the blinds, pulling the curtains mostly shut, creating a surprisingly dark environment for what is now 7 at night. I walk over to Callie, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, tucking her in again. I lay a gentle kiss on her forehead, and I swear she leans into me.

I return to my chair next to Lena, our hands automatically linking as we sit side by side, keeping watch over our girl. Not a thing in the world could drive me away. Not tonight. Or any other night, for that matter.

I watch as Callie faces the same struggle, trying to force herself to stay awake. It is heartbreaking to watch. Finally, her eyelids droop once and for all, no longer rising. I hardly dare to breathe for fear or waking her up. Lena and I give each other a sad smile, leaning in to kiss each other.

After an hour, Callie has not budged, and I am feeling the weight of the day taking its toll on me. It is now _me_ fighting to keep my eyes open, finding myself having nodded off periodically as I keep jerking awake.

"Sleep, babe," Lena whispers. "I'll stay up." I nod my head, gladly taking the offer as my eyes drift closed.


	20. Chapter 20

Stef POV

I am woken to a piercing scream, and I am out of the chair with my hand reaching to unholster my non-existent weapon before I am even awake.

"STEF!" Lena shouts at me. "Calm down!" She reaches out to grab my arm. "What happened?! Where are they?" I whirl around, still confused and looking for the danger I know must be present.

A few nurses come into the room, looking concerned. I look at Callie, eyes wide open and tears streaming down her bruised face. "I think she had a nightmare, she woke up screaming." Lena says, voice shaking, and it finally clicks.

I hear her heart running at a rapid beat on the monitor, and can now see the sweat soaking through her gown. The nurses move around, trying to adjust her oxygen and reconnect a few cables that got pulled off during her tossing and turning, but Callie is flat out terrified and jerks away from them.

She squeezes her eyes shut tight. "Please don't." She cries, as she uses her left arm to swing toward a nurses face. My attention is fully on her now, and I step toward her. "Cal!" I call out gently. "It's okay, love, momma and I are here. You are safe."

I turn toward the nurses. "Please, can I re-attach these things? She is afraid of anyone else right now." They nod, gladly stepping back and directing me where to place what. Callie's eyes are open again, dark orbs filled with a deep fear.

I talk to her quietly as I slip the Sp02 sensor back on her finger, and straighten out her nasal cannula. "That's my girl. You're okay. We're right here." Lena reassures, using her thumb to brush away the tears.

"He's here." Callie whispers, eyes darting toward the door. "He said. Be back. Him and. Others." She croaks, her voice barely cooperating. Tears are cascading down her cheeks again. My stomach turns at her statement; the cop in me wants to question her about other people, but the mother in me doesn't want to know.

"No, baby. He's in jail. You are safe in the hospital. Momma and I are watching out for you. We will be right here all night long." I try to reassure her. Her breathing is becoming more rapid, and I'm terrified of losing her to the panic.

"Sweetie, we're here with you and nobody is going to hurt you. Do you understand, Callie?" Lena questions, trying to catch her gaze. After a few more glances around the room, she shudders and then looks at us. "Kay." She whispers, her breathing slowing. I find myself letting out a deep exhale, my fears subsiding.

Lena and I sit back into the chairs, clutching our hands together again. Callie seems to have calmed down significantly, and she now looks to be checking out her casts. I look down at my watch, wondering what time it is. 9:00pm. She got barely 2 hours of sleep. I frown. 2 hours is not at all substantial enough to help her recover.

I begin to notice Callie grimacing every now and then, and her heart rate audibly speeds up each time. It lasts a few minutes each time and seems to come and go. "What's wrong?" I ask her, wondering how much pain she is in. "Nothing." She responds, clearly lying. "Callie, are you in pain? Be honest." It's silent for a moment before she responds. "A lot." I stand up, pressing the call button. "Well, let's get you some medicine, sweets."

"Don't!" Callie shouts, her voice rough. "No drugs. I'll be good. Please. I'll be good." She is begging me, her right arm reaching for me as she grimaces in pain again. "Shh, honey. It's okay, nobody is going to give you any drugs." My attempt to calm her does little good as a nurse comes walking in. "Is everything okay in here?" She asks politely.

"I'm not sure.. Um, she's in a lot of pain." I explain. "Well, let's get you fixed up shall we, Callie?" She smiles comfortingly at her as she moves toward the IV. "Mom, please." Callie begs again, tears flowing down her face.

"Hold on." I tell the nurse, not wanting to keep making her feel as though she has no control. "Baby, this is just pain medicine, it won't do what you think it will. Can you trust us?" Lena pleads. She turns her head away from us. "Sweetie?" Lena prods. She turns back to look at us, wary. "Kay." She concedes, much to our relief.

The nurse presses the button on the pump, and shows us how to use it. "Anytime she needs more medication, just press this until you hear the beep. It will give her the correct dosage, and it won't let you administer more than you should." I'm exceptionally grateful for this. The less we can have strangers coming into her room, the better I think she will do.

Within a couple of minutes, Callie's eyes are drooping again. "Are you in less pain?" I question. "Mmm." She nods. "But don't like. The feeling. They hurt me. And I-I Can't. Fight back." She finishes quietly.

I wonder if hearing these confessions will ever get less painful. I assume not. I understand why she hates the sedatives and pain medication so much, now. Before I was a little confused, assuming she'd prefer the calmness over the panic. But from her quiet admission, I'm assuming he used heroin to make her incapable of fighting against him. Tears well up in my eyes.

I lay my hand on her shoulder, suddenly noticing how cold she feels. Her sweaty gown has cooled down. I know we need to change her, we can't risk her catching something in her already weakened state.

"I'll be right back back, Cal, I've just got to ask the nurse for something." I head down to the nurses station. "Can I get a fresh gown for her?" I ask the first person I see, not wanting to be away from her any longer than necessary. "Of course! Do you want help changing her?" She is nice enough, but I know Callie would be afraid. "No, no, we've got it. Thanks though." I smile at her, heading back to the room.

"Callie, is it okay if we change you into a new gown, or do you want to stay in the one you're in?" I ask her, praying she chooses the new gown, but wanting her to have more say in what happens. "Change." She mumbles, though her body language becomes very guarded. I suddenly remember how she didn't want us seeing her earlier, and curse myself for not realizing she probably doesn't want us to change her, either.

"Honey, would you like us to get a nurse to help you change?" I offer, sincere. She seems to think about it before finally shaking her head. "S'ok." She shrugs. "Callie, are you sure? It is no problem at all if you would rather us get a nurse for you." I encourage, unconvinced she is okay with it. She shakes her head again, this time more confidently. "Just.. don't look." She whispers. "Okay, sweetheart. We will do our best not to look." I promise.

She closes her eyes as Lena and I gently pull her gown forward and off her, attempting to avert our eyes and give her as much privacy as possible. We quickly pull the new gown on, and as I go to tie it in the back, I'm stopped dead in my tracks. The burns and bruising and bite marks are bad enough, but this time it is the ink engraved into her flesh that turns my blood to ice.

Lena is looking at me expectantly and frustratedly, as my sudden stillness is obviously going to tip off Callie that I am looking at her wounds. But, if she saw this, she would understand why I can't move. I know I need to. I need to finish and pretend I didn't see, but what I know and what I am capable of are two very different things.

"Stef." Lena says, stern. Callie starts to pull away from me, and this is what finally snaps me out of it. I blink quickly, several unwelcome tears escaping. "Sorry, sweets, the gown isn't cooperating very well." I lie, fumbling around with the strings as I attempt to tie them with shaking fingers. I stand up straight, working hard to pull myself together.

"Why don't we give her a new blanket from home, too?" I offer, attempting to draw out the time I can remain out of Callie's direct line of sight. Lena shoots me a concerned look, but plays along, going to the bags and pulling out a fresh blanket. She strips the old one off, replacing it. I feel slightly more composed by this point, and help to tuck her in.

She burrows her head into the blanket, letting out a deep sigh, a small content smile on her face. I'm so thankful that the feeling of home brings her so much comfort. Lena and I each take a turn giving her a kiss on the forehead before returning back to our chairs, watching her. Lena is staring at me, clearly concerned about my reaction from earlier. I refuse to acknowledge it for now. Not while Callie is awake.

She drifts off again fairly quickly, her breathing steady. Lena doesn't hesitate. "Stef. What happened?" She asks, anxiety leaking in to her voice. I look at her, not wanting to tell her. But I know she will find out sooner or later. I start to open my mouth, then decide against it. I can't risk Callie being awake enough to hear me. I'm guessing she knows she was tattooed, but she may not know what exactly it is.

Lena begins to speak again, frustrated at my silence. I hold up my hand to stop her, digging into my pants for my phone. ' _He marked her as his with a tattoo on her right shoulder. It's common among sex trafficking._ ' I text quickly, sending it. Lena is still looking at me, confused. I tap my phone, then look at her pointedly.

She immediately fishes out her phone, reading my text. She covers her mouth with her hand, horrified, before looking over at me. "Wha-" She cuts herself off, looking back down at her phone as she texts me back. ' _What is it?_ '

I grimace, not even wanting to type the words. I take a deep breath. ' _It says 'Property of GPRS.' Beneath it is a barcode with the date she was taken as the numbers. GPRS stands for Guerilla Pimp Russell Salazar. A GP is a pimp who controls almost entirely by physical violence and force._ ' I hit send and look away, focusing on Callie, not wanting to see Lena's reaction. There is silence beside me for a minute before I hear sniffling, confirming the tears I assumed would be flowing.

After a few minutes, Lena's hand finds mine again. She squeezes, trying to get my attention. It takes me a moment to find the courage, but I eventually glance at her. Her eyes are shining with sadness. "This isn't your fault, Stef." She says firmly. I immediately look away again, bouncing my leg from anxiety. It's amazing how well she knows me.

"Stef. It's **_not._** " She speaks quietly, not wanting to disturb Callie. "You are not responsible for this. You didn't do this to her." I can't take it anymore. I look back at her again, tears in my eyes. "Yeah, maybe not, Lena. But I didn't stop it, either." I spit out, disgusted with myself.

"Oh, Stef.." She reaches for me, but I stand up to get away. I can't do this right now. "I need to use the bathroom." I lie, casting a glance at Callie, making sure she is still asleep.

"I'll be right back." I mutter, not even bothering to cast a glance backward as I walk out of the room.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: We are going to see a return of Callie's POV in the next chapter, and it's going to start switching between her and Stef more often. These last few chapters just ended up working out better to write from Stef's POV. Sorry if y'all got bored with that!

* * *

Stef POV

It is nearing 5am, and it is my turn to be up while Lena sleeps. I've been watching Callie's monitor for the last hour, unable to see too much of her in the darkness. I am thankful for each heartbeat, letting the reality of everything sink into me. It's a miracle she is even alive.

I notice her heart rate pick up, and I wonder if she's having a nightmare. I debate waking her, but before I can settle on a decision, I hear her.

"Mom." She sobs, barely audible. I'm on my feet immediately, flipping on the side lamp, softly illuminating the room. I reach out to stroke her hair, and she violently flinches away from me. "Please," She gasps. "Don't hit." My heart sinks.

"Baby, I'd never hit you. _Never_. You're okay, love. Look at me. It's mom. Can you see?" She sniffles for a minute as she glances around, and I rub my hand slowly up and down her back, waiting patiently for her to come around. This seems to make her even more upset, as she begins crying harder. "Want you. To. Be real." She cries, louder now. "Why can't. You. Be here."

My heart shatters inside my chest. Lena is awake now, as well. Neither of us are sure how to convince her this is real; that _we_ are real. She must believe she is still back in the motel. She seems so convinced we are a figment of her imagination.. I don't understand it, but I'm desperate to convince her of reality.

"Love, I am real! Look at me. I'm right here! I'm with you, right now. You're in the hospital, and momma and I are here. You just had a bad dream, baby. You're safe now." I speak quickly, wanting her to understand. She begins hyperventilating as she continues crying, apparently either not hearing or not believing what I've said.

"I miss. My. Moms." She hiccups over her tears. "I, I, don't want. To do. This. Anymore. Wanna go. _Home_." Her voice drags out into a sob on the last word, and her anguish destroys me. I hear Lena let out a choked cry, and I can't stop the tears on my own face. _How many times did she utter these words, and we truly were not there?_

It occurs to me how selfish I have been. The whole time she was gone, I was so terrified we wouldn't find her in time, that she would be dead before I reached her; and I didn't even know what was happening to her. Yes, my mind conjured up awful scenarios. But in the worst moments, I was able to rely on denial to get me through.. thinking that maybe she had gotten away and was hiding, or maybe she was getting by unscathed.

My soul feels like it is being crushed as I realize now that she, too, thought we wouldn't find her in time. But the difference is, she was being tortured beyond even _my_ worst thoughts, and there was no way for _her_ to survive by denial. She couldn't just pretend like she wasn't being horrifically abused. I had the ability to lie to myself and let myself fantasize that she was okay. She didn't have that escape.

"She thought she'd never see us again." Lena whispers to me, our minds in the same place. "Oh, honey." I wrap my arms around her, never wanting to let go. I want to say more to reassure her, but my throat feels swollen shut with emotion. I gently draw her head to my chest, my own tears falling into her hair. _M_ y _girl. My poor girl._

Lena grasps Callie's hand gently in her own, giving it a kiss. "We are here with you and we will not go anywhere. You will never be apart from us like that again, okay? Nobody will ever hurt you again. We're right here, and we aren't going anywhere." She says, voice shaking.

After a few minutes of holding her, her cries quiet down, only the occasional sniffle interrupting the silence. "My hands. Tied down. Fix them?" She questions, pulling away. I find myself concerned, and even though I know nobody has tied her arms down, I pull up the blanket to look at them regardless. "No, love, see? You aren't tied down." I gently lift her right arm up to show her.

"But…" She trails off, and it's clear she is slowly coming back to us. Lena lowers herself into Callie's sight. "You're in the hospital, sweetheart. Mom found you, and now you are safe at the hospital with us. Do you remember?" We watch her reaction, see the wheels turning as her confusion turns back into tears, but this time they are tears of relief.

She reaches for Lena, opening her arms for a hug. Lena embraces her instantly. "You guys. Are real." She sniffles. She pulls away from Lena then, turning toward me with open arms. I gladly wrap my arms around her, my heart warming at her gesture. I close my eyes and try to soak up this moment; the fact that she is here with us. The fact that she is alive.

Once she has calmed down, Lena wipes the remaining tears from her eyes. "How's your pain?" I ask gently, remembering this is a touchy subject. She eyes me and bites her lip, looking back down at the blanket. "Like this blanket." She whispers, her finger twitching on it. Her face twists into concern as she looks up at me. "Can't feel it." She says, looking back at her hand. Her fingers twitch again.

"Can't feel what, love? The blanket?" Now I'm worried. She nods. "Or hand." She shrugs as though it doesn't bother her, but I can tell by the way she is looking at me that she is scared. I clear my face of worry, knowing she is taking my lead. Lena reaches down and carefully puts Callie's hand in hers, wrapping her fingers gently around her own.

"Do you feel this?" She asks as she rubs her fingers on Callie's. Callie stares at their hands for a moment with worry etched into her face. "Not really." She bites her lip, nervous. "When did that start?" I question. She looks away as though she's thinking, before she turns back to me and shrugs, her sight dropping onto the bed.

"What is it, love? You can tell us." She shrugs again. "Haven't felt. Hand for a. While." My stomach drops. "Define a while.. The last day? Several days?" I'm praying she will say not long, hopeful that the shorter the time has been, the more likely it is something reversible. "Guess for.. Couple weeks. Maybe." She mumbles. _Dammit_.

I assumed her weak grasp and lack of capable movement was due to the broken bones, not anything nerve-related. But, this is obviously a possibility. We saw how deeply embedded that handcuff was. I try to push my anger down and focus.

"Okay, hun, well we will ask the doctor when they come around in the morning. For now, why don't you try to rest some more?" I give her a smile, and Lena tucks her back in. "Mmk." She whispers. "Mom?" She looks at me again, anxious. "Yes, sweets?" I'm curious what is causing the sudden anxiety, hoping it is something I can help with.

"I hurt." She says, eyes flickering between me and the bed. My heart hurts for her, but I'm thrilled that she is being honest. "Do you want some pain meds?" I try to confirm, making sure this truly is what she is hinting at. She nods. I smile at her, feeling both surprised and grateful that she is not only accepting medication right now, but actually asking for it.

"I'm so proud of you, you know that? Thank you for trusting us." I press the morphine button the nurse had showed us earlier, then press a kiss to her forehead. "There you go, love. Easy as that. Now get your rest." I wink at her, and she gives me a small smile back as she burrows herself a little deeper under the blanket. This is a new habit, and quite adorable at that.

We sit down again, leaving the small lamp on this time. Lena lets her head fall back against the wall, sighing. I hold her hand in mine, automatically rubbing my fingers over hers, soothing. I return to my watch over Callie while Lena attempts to get some more rest, as well.

I allow my mind to wander, a dangerous thing to do in my emotional and sleep-deprived state. I flash back to Callie on that bed, chained up like an animal, no clothes. Made to sit in her own filth. Anger and sadness well up inside of me, and my stomach feels sour as I begin imagining how things felt from her perspective.

There were no blankets on the bed, just a sheet underneath her. It dawns on me that she probably never had anything to cover herself with. I'm sure he didn't _allow_ that. Rage burns inside me. This is probably where her new quirk comes from; the gratefulness to not be exposed. I swallow the lump in my throat as I think of how vulnerable she must have felt. This new habit suddenly feels much more sinister than before, tainted by the reality of what brought it around.

I close my eyes, trying to think of other things. Like what we plan on doing moving forward. There are so many questions I have. Is she going to want to be back in her room? Will she want one of us in there? Will she want to sleep with us? Will she even be able to sleep?

She's going to need help showering, getting changed, brushing her teeth.. Doing basically anything. If she has permanent nerve damage to her hands, what other difficulties will that add? It's the middle of August right now, but school starts in just a few weeks. There's no way she will be ready for that in time. We are going to need to keep her out for a while. Even when she becomes physically capable of going back, will she be able to handle it emotionally? The questions swirl in my mind, one after the other, never ending.

An hour later, I am jolted from my thoughts by Callie's loud warning that she is going to be sick, directly before she throws up on herself. There is really nothing in her stomach except bile, but it was enough to get on the blanket and her gown. I hit the nurses call button and let them know what has happened. Callie is immediately afraid. "Am sorry! Don't want. People." She chokes out. "Just. Feel bad."

I give her a sad smile. "It's okay, honey, you don't need to apologize for anything. All the nurse is going to do is get you a new blanket and gown, okay?" I try to reassure her. This apparently makes her realize that she's puked on the blanket. "My blanket." She cries, tears forming in her eyes.

Lena has woken up from the commotion, but she is digging through the duffel bag, doing god-knows-what. I pull off the blanket, reassuring her that we will get it washed and it'll be back as soon as possible. A nurse comes in with a new gown and blanket at the same time that Lena pops up, bright smile on her face, with a different blanket from the house. "I brought extras!" She exclaims, happy.

I grin ear to ear. Leave it to Lena. Thank God. I help Callie out of her old gown and into a new one, this time prepared to see the dark ink marring the large swath of skin. My stomach flips, but I don't freeze. Lena settles the new blanket over her, tucking it in.

"Are you feeling any better, bug?" Lena asks. She shakes her head. I notice she is shaking quite a bit. "Are you cold?" I question, the wheels turning in my head. "Yeah." She answers. Moments later, though, she is trying to push the blanket off her. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" Lena asks, frowning. "Hot. Too hot." She exclaims, and now she is sweating.

I press the call button again. I have my suspicions, but best to make sure she doesn't have a fever, first. The nurse comes in and we explain to her what Callie has told us. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, Callie. Let me get your temperature real quick. Let's see if you have a fever." She grabs a thermometer out of the cabinet, turning back around to Callie.

"Open up." She states calmly, leaning toward her face. Callie reels back. "No!" She croaks out as she raises her arms, trying to shield herself from the nurse. She is obviously triggered by this, and my mind goes back to the incident with the Jello.

"Shh, you're okay, love. Everything's okay. Take a breath. You're safe." I stroke her hair before lowering her arms down, and begin to run my hand over her back, soothing her. "Give us just a second." I mouth to the nurse. She nods, understanding. Callie shudders as she takes a few deep breaths, calming down.

"Let's go ahead and use the forehead thermometer instead, would you prefer that, Callie?" The nurse questions, switching devices. Callie nods. This she accepts without incident, only flinching slightly as the nurse reaches toward her face. The thermometer beeps and the nurse pulls it away just in time for Callie to make us all aware she is going to be sick again.

Lena thrusts a small bowl in front of her, and she proceeds to throw up whatever bile is left inside her stomach. "No fever." The nurse confirms. Lena takes over my place as I step around to speak with the nurse. "I'm pretty sure she's going through withdrawals. Is there anything you can give her?" The nurse nods. "Let me run it by the doctor, and we'll get her taken care of." I'm about to thank her when I hear Callie gasping for air.

"Cant. Breathe." Her arms are outstretched, trying to grip onto something. She manages to latch a finger onto Lena's shirt, panic in her movements. I return quickly to her side, rubbing her back. "It's okay, love, try to relax. You're going to be okay, it'll stop in a minute. You'll be able to breathe." I try to coach her. After a few minutes, she gulps down air before relaxing slightly.

"That's it, Cal. Just breathe." Lena coos. "Want a sip of water?" I hold a small cup out to her, and she take a sip through the straw. "Better?" Lena asks. She nods. The nurse comes back in, syringe in her hand. "Don't want." She says, terror lacing her words. "It's okay!" I'm quick to reassure her, having completely forgotten to tell her the nurse was getting medication. "It's just medicine to make you not feel sick. You won't feel sleepy or anything from it, I absolutely promise you."

Callie gives me a hesitant look before agreeing to the medication. She watches her inject it into her IV, her body tense. "Call if you need anything." The nurse tosses back as she leaves the room.

"How are you feeling, hun?" Lena asks several minutes later. "Cold." She's shivering severely, enough to make her teeth chatter. Lena tucks in all the edges of the blanket from home, and I lay the hospital blanket over it, tucking that in as well. The shaking subsides quickly. "Thanks." She whispers, already looking tired. "Always." I wink, giving her arm a squeeze.

Lena and I return to our respective chairs. "It's my turn to stay up, babe. You catch some sleep." Lena states, and I am not about to disagree. I glance at my watch. 5:43am.

I watch until Callie drifts off, refusing to let exhaustion take me over until I know she is sleeping and peaceful. Once it's clear that she is, I allow myself to be pulled into the heavy lull of sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

_Callie POV_

I wake up to my heart thudding uncomfortably fast in my chest. The last thing I remember was my moms tucking me in, but I think I must have been hallucinating. It is dark in the room; I can't see anything clearly. It doesn't _feel_ like the motel, but where else would I be?

My hands are at my sides, but they are heavy and I can't move them. He must have handcuffed me to the side of the bed at some point. _Where am I?_ I can feel the fear growing inside my body, turning into its own living being. _Where is he?_ Usually he brings his friends when it is dark. _What if they're all here right now, hiding?_ Fear swells larger inside me.

 _Where are my moms? They were here.. Weren't they?_ I don't see them anymore. I must have been dreaming again. I start crying quietly. I just want my moms. It was so real. I wanted it to be real. "Mom." I sob, unable to keep the despair out of my voice. A light flicks on near me, and someone is suddenly at my side. I flinch violently as their hand reaches for me. "Please," I rasp out. "Don't hit."

"Baby, I'd never hit you. _Never_. You're okay, love. Look at me. It's mom. Can you see?" Stef's voice makes its way into my ears, and I find myself even more confused. I see her beside me, but that doesn't mean much. I have been seeing her for weeks. She doesn't ever speak to me that much, though.

Her hand begins rubbing up and down my back, and that's when I know for sure that I'm just hallucinating again. I begin crying harder. "Want you. To. Be real." I sob. "Why can't. You. Be here." I know it's stupid to talk to a hallucination, but at this point I simply have nothing left.

"Love, honey, I am real! Look at me. I'm right here! I'm with you, right now. You're in the hospital, and momma and I are here. You just had a bad dream, baby. You're safe now." She speaks urgently, but I can't stop crying. I find myself choking on sobs now, hyperventilating.

"I miss. My. Moms." I gasp, overwhelmed with a heavy sadness. "I, I, don't want. To do. This. Anymore. Wanna go. _Home_." I am weeping, my heart feeling as though it has been torn from my chest. I'm so, so tired. I don't want to live like this anymore.

"Oh, honey. Oh love." I feel arms wrap around me, and I try to embrace this small comfort, no matter that it's not real. I will take what I can get.

I'm caught off guard when I hear Lena speaking. "We are here with you and we will not go anywhere. You will never be apart from us like that again, okay? Nobody will ever hurt you again. We're right here, and we aren't going anywhere."

Stef leans in to pull my head against her chest, and I start to question myself. None of my hallucinations have ever felt THIS real, and it was usually only Stef in them. When Lena has appeared, she has never spoken. Memories begin flickering through my head; the door being burst open, the bright lights and all of the people. _Am I really free?_

"My hands. Tied down. Fix them?" I question, pulling away. Stef looks at me, concern in her eyes. She pulls up the blanket to look at my arms. "No, love, see? You aren't tied down." She gently lifts my right arm up, and I understand why it's heavy when I see the large cast. _Is this real?_

"But…" I trail off, unsure what to believe. Lena catches my gaze. "You're in the hospital, sweetheart. Mom found you, and now you are safe at the hospital with us. Do you remember?" she watches me intently. I vaguely remember that. _Oh. Yeah_. This is real. I'm really here, and they're really here. _They're really here._

I begin crying all over again, reaching my arms out to Lena, desperate for a hug. "You guys. Are real." I sniffle, pulling away from Lena to latch onto Stef. I feel safe in their embraces. _Safe. I feel safe._ I didn't think I would ever get to hug them again. I didn't think I would ever have my moms back.

After a while, my tears slow, eventually stopping completely. Lena takes this time to wipe them from my cheeks. "How's your pain?" Stef asks. I bite my lip, looking back down at the blanket. "Like this blanket." I whisper, trying to change the subject. When I try to move my fingers, I find they only twitch, and I can't feel the blanket. I look up at Stef, worried.

"Can't feel it." I look back at my hand. I try to concentrate on rubbing the blanket, but my fingers just twitch again. "Can't feel what, love? The blanket?" Stef questions. I nod. "Or hand." I state, looking to Stef for answers.

Lena reaches down and puts my hand in hers, wrapping her fingers gently around my own. "Do you feel this?" She asks me as she rubs her fingers on mine. I stare at our hands for a minute, confused. I shake my head. "Not really." _What's wrong with me?_

"When did that start?" Stef asks. I try to think when I last remember being able to feel something, but I can't. I shrug, looking back at the bed and wanting to drop the conversation.

"What is it, love? You can tell us." I shrug again. "Haven't felt. Hand for a. While." I mumble. "Define a while.. The last day? Several days?" I mull it over again. It was after one of the times I got in really bad trouble, I think. Maybe a month ago. Maybe less. "Guess for.. Couple weeks. Maybe." I mumble again, wanting to forget.

"Okay, hun, well we will ask the doctor when they come around in the morning. For now, why don't you try to rest some more?" Stef encourages while Lena begins tucking me back in. I can tell they're worried and trying not to show it, so I just let them think it worked. At this point, I'm honestly too tired - physically and emotionally - to care, anyway.

"Mmk." I whisper. "Mom?" I look at Stef. My head is aching, and my whole body feels like it has been set on fire. "Yes, sweets?" Stef responds. "I hurt." I say, anxious.

"Do you want some pain meds?" She asks, seeming surprised. I nod. She smiles at me like I've done something spectacular, but I don't know why. "I'm so proud of you, you know that? Thank you for trusting us." She presses the morphine button before giving me a gentle kiss on my head.

"There you go, love. Easy as that. Now get your rest." She winks at me, and I already feel the morphine swimming through my veins as I give her a small smile back. I burrow deeper under the blanket, having a layer of protection over my body makes me feel safer. Plus, this blanket smells like home. Like safety. I close my eyes, letting my mind wander to home.

* * *

An hour later I jolt awake, feeling absolutely awful. "I'm be sick." I state, immediately vomiting on myself. There's really nothing in me to throw up except bile, but it's still gross. Stef had jumped up right away, but I didn't give anyone enough warning time for anything. Stef hits the nurse call button, and fear floods me.

"Am sorry! Don't want. People." I choke. "Just. Feel bad." Stef looks at me sympathetically. "It's okay, honey, you don't need to apologize for anything. All the nurse is going to do is get you a new blanket and gown, okay?" She reassures me. I nod my head, then suddenly realize that I've puked on my blanket.

"My blanket.." Tears well up in my eyes, and I try to keep them down. Lena has woken up from the commotion, and she is rummaging around through a duffel bag. Stef is pulling off the blanket, comforting me that she will get it washed and it'll be back before I know it.

A nurse comes in with a new gown and blanket at the same time that Lena pops up, bright smile on her face, with a brand new blanket from the house. "I brought extras!" She explains, happy. I smile sheepishly back at her, thankful, but feeling like a baby. Stef helps me out of the old gown and into a new one, and Lena settles the new blanket over me, tucking it up around my shoulders.

"Are you feeling any better, bug?" Lena asks. I shake my head. I feel absolutely awful, actually, and realize I am shivering. "Are you cold?" Stef questions. Kind of, I guess. "Yeah." I answer. A few moments later, though, I feel like I am sweltering under the blanket. I try shoving it off me. "What are you doing, sweetheart? Lena asks, frowning. "Hot. Too hot." I explain. I can feel myself sweating now.

Stef presses the nurses button again, and I want to roll my eyes. I wish she would quit calling them for everything. I give her a look, but she doesn't seem to notice. The nurse comes in, and they explain to her what I told them.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well, Callie. Let me get your temperature real quick. Let's see if you have a fever." She digs through one of the cabinets, and I find myself wary of her. I don't trust anyone, anymore. I can't.

She turns back to me with the thermometer. "Open up." She says, leaning toward my face. Adrenaline courses through my body at her actions. "Don't!" I cry, trying to make my useless arms protect me. Stef steps in, then, trying to calm me.

"Shh, you're okay, love. Everything's okay. Take a breath. You're safe." She strokes my hair for a moment before lowering my arms down, beginning to run her hand over my back. I shudder as I take some breaths, trying to calm down. I feel like the nurse is judging me, and I feel ashamed.

"Let's go ahead and use the forehead thermometer instead, would you prefer that, Callie?" The nurse questions me, switching devices. I nod, far preferring that. I flinch when she reaches for my head, but otherwise am okay. I can feel the bile rising in my throat just as the thermometer beeps. She pulls it away right as I know I'm going to throw up again.

"Gonna be sick." I manage to get out, and Lena is quick to thrust a small bowl in front of my face. I throw up whatever remains inside my stomach, which is pretty much nothing. My stomach is cramping horribly. "No fever." The nurse confirms.

Lena takes over Stef's place beside me, as she and the nurse step aside. I briefly wonder what they're talking about, but then I'm overtaken by dry heaves again. I'm having trouble breathing, because I can't stop retching long enough to catch a breath. The lack of oxygen begins to make me panic.

"Cant. Breathe." I barely manage to pant out. I'm grasping at air with my hands, wanting something to grip on to. I hook a finger onto lena's shirt, clutching it pointlessly. Stef is there again, rubbing my back. "It's okay, love, try to relax. You're going to be okay, it'll stop in a minute. You'll be able to breathe." She coaches. I try to do what she says, but it's difficult. Finally I feel it slowly subsiding, and my stomach feels calmer. I gulp in air, my panic fading.

"That's it, Cal. Just breathe." Lena coos. "Want a sip of water?" Stef holds a small cup out to me, and I take a sip through the straw. "Better?" Lena asks. I nod. The nurse comes back in, a syringe in her hand. "Don't want." I say, insistent, fear creeping back up. "It's okay!" Stef is quick to reassure. "It's just medicine to make you not feel sick. You won't feel sleepy or anything from it, I absolutely promise you." I'm not sure whether to believe this or not, but I hesitantly agree, anyway. I watch as she injects it into my IV port, wary or her intentions.

Several minutes pass before Lena breaks the silence. "How are you feeling, hun?" I shrug. "Cold." I'm shivering a ridiculous amount, but I can't make it stop. Lena tucks in all the edges of the blanket from home, and Stef lays the hospital blanket over it, tucking that in as well. I warm up quickly. "Thanks." I whisper, grateful. "Always." Stef winks, squeezing my arm before they both sit back down.

I find myself nodding off quickly. Part of me wants to resist it, but a larger part is too exhausted to even try.  
Maybe when I wake up, the last month and a half will just have been a nightmare.  
I can only pray.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N:  Update! Yay! A couple things. 1) I've decided that whenever I have 2 chapters that are the same but in different POVs, I am going to upload them both at the same time, instead of drawing it out. I know when I've followed stories before, I've gotten disappointed when they update again a week later but it's basically the same content. I already feel bad uploading different POV chapters about the same thing, lol, but it feels necessary to this story to get in everybody's feelings and take on things.

2) THANK YOU for reviews! They honestly make my day.

3) Thank you in particular to reviewer Lila, who suggested bringing in the other kids simply via mentioning them between Stef and Lena and such. What's funny is that you wrote this suggestion just as I was doing something very similar in a future chapter! Honestly, though, I never would've thought about doing more of that without your suggestion. So, thank you! I really think that is going to add to the story. You'll be seeing that coming up in a few chapters. Also, thank you very much for your support of this story and extremely kind comments!

Okay, on to the story.

* * *

Callie POV

10:30am

I wake up later that morning to whispering and shuffling. I open my eyes, blinking against the light in the room. I can see Stef standing near the edge of my bed, talking with someone. Lena is sitting in the chair near the window, looking straight at me. "Good morning!" She says, alerting the others to the fact that I have woken up. They both look over at me. "Morning, love." Stef smiles.

For a second, I almost forget that anything is wrong. My whole body feels tight, like I've slept wrong for the past year. I go to stretch my limbs and am instantly hit with pain, leaving me gasping.

"Oh, baby." Lena coos, her face showing every ounce of sadness. "A lot of pain?" Stef asks, coming over to rub her hand over my shoulder. I take a shaky breath before nodding my head slowly. I can hardly believe much my body hurts. My arms are burning and throbbing at the same time. My whole body aches like I've been in an awful car accident. Most uncomfortable, though, is the intense pressure between my legs. A tear falls from my eye, and I try unsuccessfully to brush it away.

I forget the nurse is even in the room until he seems to suddenly appear at my side, leaning over me to hit the morphine button. My heart skips a beat, my breath catching in my throat. In an instant, he has turned into Russell, about to climb on top of me.

"Am ok! No more!" I rasp, my voice even worse than yesterday. His hand brushes my arm as he quickly leans back, and I let out a small, hoarse, shriek. Stef and Lena are beside me then, speaking calmly and rubbing my arms, but I can't stand the touches.

I shrink away from them, wanting to disappear. I can hear their voices, but I can't understand what they are saying. It's like I am trying to listen to them from underwater, and I give up trying to understand. Everything is too confusing. The nurse has backed off, but nothing seems to make sense.

Rapidly it seems that the hospital room has faded out to the motel room. I can smell and see everything vividly. I can feel myself laying on the bed, sheets damp with my own blood. I keep blinking my eyes, trying to bring myself back, but nothing is working. He is going to hurt me again. He is here. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

The noises of the hospital fade away as I hear the unbuckling of a belt, feeling the bed dip as he crawls onto it. I try to pull myself into a ball, hoping that if I can just become small enough, he can't hurt me this time. "Stop, stop, stop." I mumble repeatedly, wanting to escape.

I feel blood on my arms again, the squeezing pain of metal in skin returning with a vengeance. I tense my body, preparing for the pain to intensify, feeling the warmth of my blood trickling from between my legs.

"Quiet. Be quiet. Shut up." I whisper to myself. _Don't bring more pain on yourself by screaming. Don't get punished._ I keep waiting for more pressure, more pain. But it doesn't come. In an instant, everything seems to fade as quickly as it had come. I blink quickly, the hospital room back in my vision, my moms right there. I am so confused.

My breath is heavy, sweat dripping down my forehead. "Mom." I pant. "There's my girl. It's okay, sweets. You're okay." She speaks quietly, refraining from touching me. My entire body feels even more tense than before, but I make no move to unfurl from the fetal position I am in.

I sniffle, trying to understand what has happened. I risk a glance up at Stef. "There's blood.." I say, still feeling it between my legs. "What blood, baby? Where?" Her eyes shine bright with concern. I shut my eyes, embarrassed. "Never mind." I whisper. She appears to understand what I mean, regardless of my inability to answer.

"Is it okay if we move the blanket and look?" She questions gently. I don't answer for a moment, hating myself for being so pathetic. I open my eyes, realizing she isn't going to do anything until I give her an answer. She is staring right at me. "The nurse is gone, sweets. It's just me and momma." I feel my cheeks turn red, but I nod my permission, anyway.

Lena gently pulls the blankets up from the bottom, leaving me as covered as she can. I pull my legs further up, an automatic attempt to remain covered. "Oh, baby. It's okay." Stef says, leaning in to give me a kiss on the forehead as she hits the nurse call button.

I feel afraid of what they saw, now that she is calling for a nurse. "What's wrong?" I ask, anxious. "Blood?" I question. "No no, sweets, you're not bleeding. Everything's okay, we are just going to change your sheets." She gives my hand a slight squeeze. I feel even more confused now. If there's no blood, why do we have to change my sheets?

It takes me longer than it should to realize what has actually happened. I wet myself. Shame envelops my entire being. I cannot believe I peed on myself. I'm 16 years old, and I just wet the bed. What the hell is _wrong_ with me? Not only is it bad enough I did that, but now my moms have to see that and help clean me up. I feel more than mortification; I feel self-hatred. I am disgusted with myself.

Stef gets down face to face with me just as a couple nurses walk in, leaving Lena to explain what has happened. "Hey, love, I want you to look at me. There is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. _Nothing_." She says seriously. "You have done nothing wrong. We all understand, okay?" Her eyes show only love and compassion, and somehow this makes me feel even worse.

"Alright, Callie, we're going to move you over into this wheelchair while we change your bedding. Is that okay?" The nurse tries to catch my eye, but I close them, offering her only a nod. I just want this to be over.

"Great. I'll let your moms help you over." She says, moving the wheelchair beside the bed. "Can you swing your legs over the bed, Cal?" Stef asks. "Yeah." I whisper, not sure if I actually can, but adamant about trying. I try to awkwardly shift myself without being able to use my hands, but it doesn't go well.

"Here, bug, let me help." Lena steps in, reaching her hand out to steady me. Stef gets in front of me, letting me place my hands in hers so I don't have to worry about them, and Lena helps me slide the few inches off the bed and onto the floor. My whole body is throbbing, and anywhere Lena touches causes even more pain.

"I'm going to change your gown real quick, okay, love? Momma will hold it up while I take off your old one." Stef advises, untying it. The change is so quick, I hardly notice. I am far too focused on how weak my legs are, shaking just trying to hold myself up. I limp my way into a 180, and Stef helps lower me into the wheelchair. She props my feet up on the footrests before wheeling me back, away from the bed.

"Now, don't think you can take off on me. I have to drive you, because you don't have a permit yet." Stef smirks at me, trying her best to make me laugh. I giggle despite myself, rolling my eyes at her. _I love her._ Lena gives me an exasperated look. "I'm sorry, I can't control her." She shrugs, draping my blanket over me. _I love this family._

Stef crouches in front of me, clasping her hands together. "The nurse says we can take you down to the cafeteria to get something to eat, since you slept through breakfast. How do you feel about that?" I give a slight shrug. "Ok."

Truth be told, the thought of food makes me feel nauseated. But if it means getting out of this room and away from what I did, then yeah.. I'm okay with that. Stef gives me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder as she gets behind me and pushes me out of the room, Lena right beside me.

As we head down the hall, we pass a few nurses and parents before we squeeze ourselves into the elevator. Several other people get on with us, and I find myself fearful. I feel vulnerable sitting here while these strange men tower over me. I feel myself shaking, but no matter how hard I try to force myself to stop, I can't.

Stef casually places herself between me and the others on the elevator, giving me a buffer. Lena glances down at me, carefully reaching to put her hand on my cast, letting me know she is there. I look up at her. "It's ok." She mouths. I lower my gaze, embarrassed how obvious it is that I am scared. The elevator dings, making me jump as the doors open and everyone gets off, including us.

We're on the first floor now, and there are people _everywhere._ It is a swarm of people all around us, and I am claustrophobic and afraid. I automatically look to Stef, seeking out my security. She seems to already be looking at me. "Momma and I've got you, sweets. You're okay." She smiles reassuringly, and I try to smile back.

I feel weak and pathetic. Every man that goes by strikes fear in me. When they look at me, I drop my gaze immediately; submissively. _Don't hurt me_. _Please, don't hurt me_.

When we make it to the cafeteria, Stef heads straight for a table in the far back. Lena quickly moves the chair out from by the wall, and Stef pushes me into the now vacant spot, my back to the wall. I feel a little better here, and I'm left silently wondering how she knew this would be more comfortable for me.

I have eyes on the whole place, and I'm watching them all intensely, my mind working overtime to process all of the threats. I'm so distracted that when Stef places her hand on my arm, I jump. I realize she must have been talking to me. "Sorry." I apologize. She leans across the table toward me, waiting until I make eye contact with her.

"There is nothing to apologize for. It is okay." I avert my eyes, refusing to acknowledge this. I'm thankful when she drops it. "So, what do you think you'd like to eat, miss Adams-Foster?" She asks, and I smile at the use of her last name. _My_ last name. "Um. Soup?" I mean it as a statement, but it comes out as a question.

"Sure thing, consider it done." She starts to rise. "How about chicken noodle? You can mostly eat the broth, that way." Lena adds. "Okay." I agree. I know I won't get away without eating something… may as well be that. "Perfect. I'll be right back." Stef says, leaving to retrieve everyone's food. I find my anxiety rising as I watch her getting further away. I desperately want to follow her.

It's not that I don't trust Lena to protect me. I know she would, or she would at least try. It's just that I'm used to Stef being the protector of the family, and, well… she's the one who found me. She got me out of that situation, and she has kept me safe from everyone through every exam so far. It feels weird and uncomfortable to watch her walking away.

My worry must show on my face, because Lena reaches her hand out to rub my fingers. "She'll be right back, honey. How are you feeling?" I shrug. "Okay." I lie, not removing my eyes from Stef's back. She glances back at us a few times, until she reaches the other end of the cafeteria. I try to keep my eyes on her as she maneuvers the line, but it is difficult.

A teenage girl at a table near us drops her drink on the ground, letting out an ear-piercing shriek. I jump, my body buzzing with adrenaline as I quickly force myself to my feet. _There is someone bad here. I need to leave._ My brain is screaming at me to run, though I don't know where to go.

Lena is on her feet instantly as well, holding her hand out toward me in an attempt to discourage me from moving as she walks around the table. I can tell she is speaking, but the blood rushing in my ears prevents me from hearing her.

Panic sets in further as I realize I've lost Stef in the crowd. Part of me knows I need to stay where I am, knows that I am safe here with Lena. But a larger part - a much more powerful part - tells me that I am in immediate danger. That I need to flee, _now_ , or it will be too late.

"Mom.." I mumble, tripping as I try to take a few steps forward, surprised again at how unsteady and weak my legs are underneath me. Lena gently grasps my shoulders in an attempt to steady me, but I jerk away from her. She releases me reluctantly, and I wobble. She points into the crowd. I force myself to focus on her.

"Mom's right there, Cal. Do you see her?" She points again, and I look harder. I see her, this time. She is walking swiftly toward us, nearly jogging, her face a mixture of worry and protection. She slows down as she nears us, setting the food down on the table before walking slowly up to me.

"What's going on, love?" She asks softly. Her voice is calm, and it confuses me. Her lack of alertness makes me question my own. I shake my head, swaying on my feet. She carefully grabs hold of me to keep me from falling, but I pull back. Lena moves to grab the wheelchair, putting it behind me.

"Can you sit down, Callie? You will feel better if you do, I promise." Lena encourages. I hesitate, my brain unsure what it wants to do.

"If you want to leave, we can leave, Cal. I will take you anywhere you want to go. But you have to sit down for us to do that. You cannot walk right now, honey." Stef says calmly. I feel dizzy all of a sudden, spots dancing in my vision, and I decide to sit before I fall.

Lena audibly exhales her relief when I sit down. "Here, lets put your blanket on you." She says, laying it over me slowly. "Dizzy." I mutter, nervous.

"It'll go away in a moment, love, it's just from your little bout of excitement." Stef assures me, rubbing my arm through the blanket. I don't pull away this time. "Can you tell me what happened?"

I frown. "Someone hurt her." I whisper, my throat aching. "Who?" Stef asks.

"The girl." I explain, although it should be obvious. Stef was right in this room when it happened. Stef and Lena exchange a glance with each other. "The girl who screamed?"

I sigh, frustrated. "Yes." A look of understanding crosses her features, then. "Ah. You thought someone hurt that girl, and that was why she screamed?" She confirms. I feel like rolling my eyes at her; I don't know why she's being so dense. "Someone _did_." I push.

"No, honey, nobody hurt her. She just dropped her drink, and it surprised her, so she screamed." She explains softly. I shake my head, disagreeing with her. That doesn't sound right. Someone definitely did something to her. Stef shakes her head back at me. "I _promise_ nobody hurt her, Callie. Both momma and I would have gotten you out of here immediately if there was someone dangerous in here. But, let's just focus on you for right now. Do you want to try to stay here and eat, or would you rather go back to your room?"

"Room." I answer quickly. She nods. "Okay, then off we go." She gives me a reassuring smile as Lena begins pushing me forward.

The way back to the room is much less crowded, even though we were only down there for maybe 20 minutes or so. We are all quiet on the way back up, and it gives me a chance to think about what happened.

After a little bit, I realize that what Stef said was true. I can remember the drink spilling onto the floor, now.

 _Why did I overreact so much?_ It's as though I have no control over my own body and brain, anymore.

 _What is happening to me?_


	24. Chapter 24

_Stef POV_

 _10:30am_

A nurse peers around the door, quietly coming in to write down Callie's latest vital signs. I stop him before he reaches her, needing to ask him a few questions.

"Do you know when the doctor will be coming around this morning? I was told she would be receiving a new doctor today - I wasn't given a name, but I'm going to assume they will be female?" I keep my voice down, not wanting to disturb Callie.

"Yes ma'am, her doctor is going to be Dr. Beth Carter. Unfortunately there weren't any female ER doctors available yesterday, but Dr. Carter will be in this evening to go over everything with you guys and assess Callie. Of course if anything changes with Callie's condition, we will call her in." He assures me.

H fails to be as quiet as I had been, and Lena subtly alerts us both to the fact that Callie has woken up. I feel irritated with him, but I try to push it down, not wanting Callie to think it is directed at her. I blow out a breath. "Morning, love." I say, smiling, taking in her sleepy appearance.

She looks calmer than I've seen, and she lets out a yawn before stretching. She barely moves before she gasps out in pain, her face paling. I move toward her automatically. "A lot of pain?" I ask, gently placing my hand on her shoulder.

She gives me a small nod, and I know it must be really bad for her to admit it. I am walking around to the other side of the bed to reach her morphine pump when I notice the nurse move beside her, far too close.

I am about to say something, but I'm too late. He leans over her, pressing the pump. Her fear is instant and tangible. "Am ok! No more!" She pleads, cringing away from him. He reels back, his hand brushing against her in his hasty retreat. The shriek she releases makes adrenaline flood my body, and I want to throttle him.

Lena and I are at her side immediately, hoping to calm her. "I'm so sor-" The nurse begins to apologize, but I have no patience for him right now. "Just leave, please." I say coldly, barely casting a glance in his direction.

"Everything's okay, Callie." I reassure her. "You're safe." I lay my hand on her arm in an attempt to soothe her, but she pulls away, squeezing her eyes shut. She shakes her head, as though trying to dislodge the unwanted things she is experiencing.

"You're safe here, honey. Mom and I are with you." Lena comforts, both of us struggling not to touch her or hold her. She rolls onto her side, pulling her legs to her chest. "Stop, stop, stop." She whimpers, struggling with something nobody else can see. Her quiet pleas stab at my heart, but I know there's nothing I can do. The helplessness of being unable to fix this for her makes tears sting my eyes.

Tears are streaming out of her own eyes as she begins mumbling. "Quiet. Be quiet. Shut up." She grits her teeth, body tensing, seeming to prepare for an onslaught of horror.

Lena looks at me, despair in her eyes. "She must be having a flashback.." She trails off. I nod. "It's not real, sweetheart. Nobody is going to hurt you. You are safe here." I try to reassure her, but I'm not sure if she even comprehends what we are saying.

After a few moments, she begins blinking rapidly, appearing confused. "Mom." She pants out, chest heaving. "There's my girl. It's okay, sweets. You're okay." I speak softly, trying to convey calm to her.

"There's blood.." She whispers, looking up at me quickly. I'm immediately concerned. "What blood, baby? Where?" I look her over, unsure. She squeezes her eyes closed again, face flushing. "Never mind." She whispers.

I think I understand what she is talking about. "Is it okay if we move the blanket and look?" I ask, quiet. She doesn't respond, and I refuse to do anything until I know she is okay with it, not wanting to trigger her any further.

Finally she opens her eyes and looks at me, the pain inside them nearly unbearable. "The nurse is gone, sweets. It's just me and momma." I explain, wanting to reassure her that she is safe. She gives a small nod. Lena pulls the blanket up gently, and I see then what has happened.

"Oh, baby. It's okay."I hit the nurse's button as I lean in to kiss her, the action so second-nature that I forget to stop myself. She seems too concerned to care. "What's wrong? Blood?" She asks, voice tight. My heart breaks for her. "No no, sweets, you're not bleeding. Everything's okay, we are just going to change your sheets." I squeeze her hand, hoping to calm her.

She seems confused for a minute, but I can tell the moment it sinks in. Her entire demeanor changes, her body language speaking volumes. I can hardly stand the shame radiating off of her, wishing there was something - anything - I could do to take this from her.

I kneel down so I am face to face with her, wanting her to truly hear me. "Hey, love, I want you to look at me. There is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. _Nothing_." I emphasize, hoping she will accept this. "You have done nothing wrong. We all understand, okay?" Tears fill her eyes, but she doesn't respond.

Each time I begin to think I understand how traumatized she is, something else happens to make me realize I truly have no _idea_ just how much trauma she has suffered.

The nurse pulls the wheelchair up to the bed, allowing us to help her. "Can you swing your legs over the bed, Cal?" I ask, wanting to allow her as much independence as possible. "Yeah." She whispers, though she struggles to move herself without being able to use her hands.

"Here, bug, let me help." Lena offers, both of us hurting watching her struggle. I let her put her hands in mine, cradling them so she doesn't have to worry about hurting herself. We manage to help her slide off the bed, and I don't miss her grimace when she is fully on her feet.

"I'm going to change your gown real quick, okay, love? Momma will hold it up while I take off your old one." I let her know, untying the old gown. Callie doesn't even flinch as we make the exchange, and her shaking legs do not go unnoticed. I work quickly to tie the new gown, unsure how long she can hold herself up for. We manage to turn her 180 degrees, and I carefully help lower her into the wheelchair. I prop up her feet before wheeling her back.

"Now, don't think you can take off on me. I have to drive you, because you don't have a permit yet." I joke, trying to lighten the mood. She rolls her eyes at me and laughs - it is only a small chuckle, but it is music to my ears.

"I'm sorry, I can't control her." Lena states, carrying on the mood as she places the blanket around Callie. I kneel in front of her again, hoping to connect. "The nurse says we can take you down to the cafeteria to get something to eat, since you slept through breakfast. How do you feel about that?"

She avoids eye contact, giving me a small shrug instead. "Ok." She doesn't sound thrilled about the prospect, but I am sure at this point she just wants to be out of this room; which is exactly why I asked them if we could take her somewhere. There aren't a lot of things I can do for her, but if there is something I can, you bet I'm going to do it. I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, standing to push her out of the room.

As we squeeze onto the elevator, I can feel the fear rolling off her in waves. I try to keep her as far from everyone else as possible, placing myself between her and the others in hopes of offering some form of safety.

She jumps when the elevator dings, taking her by surprise. I wheel her off and we are instantly assaulted by a tide of people, all the individual conversations blending in to one loud ocean of noise. I'm watching her as I push her, gauging her response. She glances up at me then, eyes full of insecurity. "Momma and I've got you, sweets. You're okay." I smile at her.

My eyes roam the cafeteria as we walk in, trying to find the quietest area. I see a spot in the back, and head for that. Lena is one step ahead of me, removing the chair that is against the wall so that I can place Callie there. As a cop, I know what positions make me feel safest when I am in uniform and know I am a target. Being against the wall is one of the best; no need to continuously look over my shoulder.

I watch her as she scans the crowd, eyes flickering rapidly. "What sounds good, Cal?" I ask. She doesn't respond, and I'm fairly sure she didn't even hear me. I reach across to put my hand gently on her arm. She jumps again, panic flitting quickly through her eyes. "Sorry." She apologizes.

I lean toward her, seeking out her eyes, waiting. Finally she makes eye contact. "There is nothing to apologize for. It is okay." I say sincerely. She looks down, her silence the only answer. I let it go. Only time will help with this.

"So, what do you think you'd like to eat, miss Adams-Foster?" I question, hoping to lift her mood. It seems to work, a smile coming quickly to her lips. "Um. Soup?" She doesn't sound too sure about it, but I'm honestly surprised she even gave me an option.

"Sure thing, consider it done." I say, getting up. "How about chicken noodle?" Lena cuts in. "You can mostly eat the broth, that way." I look at Callie, waiting for her answer. "Okay." She agrees. "Perfect. I'll be right back." I reassure, though I'm not sure if I am saying it to reassure Callie, or myself.

As I make my way through the crowd, nerves take over my body. Putting distance between us goes against everything inside of me right now. I can't stop myself from glancing back a few times, making sure she is still there. When I catch her staring straight back at me, a look of longing and worry on her face, I have to force myself to keep walking.

I'm turning around with our food when I hear a girl scream. My blood turns to ice, and I'm immediately pushing past people, trying to put eyes back on Callie. My brain is screaming at me, so many thoughts going through my head. _Is she hurt? Is someone here?_ Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, ready for a fight.

When I am able to see her again, I see that she is standing. Lena is in front of her with her arms out in a pacifying manner. There is nobody else near them, and judging by Lena's body language and demeanor, there never was.

I watch as she stumbles forward, breath catching in my throat as I'm sure she is about to fall. Lena manages to grab her shoulders, keeping her upright. Callie jerks back from her, even more unsteady on her feet now.

I pick up my pace, nearly jogging at this point. Lena is pointing at me, though I'm not entirely sure why. I look around, trying to figure out what may have happened. I notice a girl standing about 40 feet away, an empty cup and pool of soda at her feet. Things start to click.

I slow down as I get closer, taking a moment to put my own emotions in check, now that I know she isn't hurt. Callie is watching me intensely, looking like she is ready to take off any second, and I know she is going to be feeding off my emotions. I set our food down on the table, taking a deep breath. _Cop mode. De-escalation._

I walk up to her, keeping my distance, laying my hand on Lena's back. "What happened?" I ask Lena quietly. "A girl dropped her drink and screamed, I guess it scared her." She explains. Okay. This makes sense.

"What's going on, love?" I ask softly. She shakes her head, causing her to sway. I reach out for her carefully, grabbing hold of her just enough to steady her. She pulls away from me, though I expected this. Lena grabs the wheelchair, setting it behind her. "Can you sit down, Callie? You will feel better if you do, I promise." Lena encourages.

She doesn't make a move to sit, though her face looks even paler and she appears even more unsteady on her feet. I'm concerned she is either going to pass out or fall.

"If you want to leave, we can leave, Cal. I will take you anywhere you want to go. But you have to sit down for us to do that. You cannot walk right now, honey." I am kind but firm, hoping she will at least humor me and sit down. She physically wavers, then semi-collapses into the wheelchair.

Both Lena and I sigh in relief. "Here, lets put your blanket on you." Lena comforts, gently laying the blanket over her. "Dizzy." She mutters, sounding anxious.

"It'll go away in a moment, love, it's just from your little bout of excitement." I reassure her, tentatively laying my hand on her arm, rubbing it through the blanket. Much to my relief, she doesn't pull away. "Can you tell me what happened?" I question. Even though I know, I want to hear what happened for _her_. Where her brain went, what caused this reaction. She's frowning, now. "Someone hurt her." She whispers.

"Who?" I ask. "The girl." She says, like I shouldn't even have to ask. I glance at Lena. "The girl who screamed?" I guess. She lets out an annoyed sigh. "Yes." I nod, understanding the connection she drew. "Ah. You thought someone hurt that girl, and that was why she screamed?" I ask, wanting to confirm my thoughts. "Someone _did._ " She pushes, sounding agitated.

"No, honey, nobody hurt her. She just dropped her drink, and it surprised her, so she screamed." I explain, wanting to reassure her that there is no threat. She is shaking her head before I'm even finished speaking. "I _promise_ nobody hurt her, Callie. Both momma and I would have gotten you out of here immediately if there was someone dangerous in here. But, let's just focus on you for right now. Do you want to try to stay here and eat, or would you rather go back to your room?" I ask. I know she is getting frustrated with me, and I don't want to upset her any more.

"Room." She answers almost immediately. "Okay, then off we go." I smile at her, Lena taking over pushing her. The way back is much quieter, and I can feel the confusion coming off of Callie. I say nothing, hoping to give her time to recover from her scare and process through what happened.

Lena and I are processing, as well. Part of us has felt like once we get her out of the hospital, things will be easier - not _easy_ ; just eas _ier_. But our jaunt downstairs makes us realize that we are fooling ourselves. We may not face the same issues at home as we do here, but we will certainly face different ones. I am most anxious about learning how best to help her. I wish I knew the best way to go about every situation, but I am sure that there's going to be a lot of trial and error for all of us.

Regardless, though, we will do whatever we need to do to help her. We will try our best, and we will be there for her. It's going to be a long road, no doubt. But none of us will go down it alone.


	25. Chapter 25

Callie POV

I'm relieved when we finally get into the room and shut the door, leaving the noise behind us. We do another awkward, painful dance of getting me back into the bed, and all I want to do now is curl up and disappear. After realizing that I made a big deal out of absolutely nothing downstairs, I feel even more pathetic than I did when I left the room earlier.

Lena pulls the tray table over the bed, setting down the bowl of soup and a bottle of water in front of me. My stomach churns, already rejecting the idea of food. Lena gets a spoonful of broth and blows on it, cooling it down before holding it up to me. I am hesitant, but I sip a small amount of it. It does feel good on my throat, but it does nothing for my stomach.

After several spoonfuls, she holds up the water. "Want some?" She asks, sticking the straw into the bottle. I nod eagerly, I'm incredibly thirsty. She holds it up for me to drink, and I hurriedly gulp more than half the bottle before she pulls away slightly. "Sweetheart, you might want to slow down.. I don't want you making yourself sick. You can have it at any time, no need to rush, okay? Just let us know whenever you want some."

My face flushes. Russell always took water away so quickly after offering it, I would barely get a few sips. I guess I've gotten used to trying to get as much as possible when it is offered, and I just.. I forgot that I could ask for it. I try to think of a way to explain this, but quickly realize I don't even want to. They don't need to know that.

"Sorry." I say, feeling dumb. "No, honey, don't be sorry." Lena shakes her head. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I just didn't want you getting sick. Make sense?" I nod, although I still feel oddly guilty.

"Want to try some of the noodles?" Stef pipes up from the chair she is sitting in. I shake my head. I'm afraid I'll have a bad reaction to it like I had with the Jello, and I don't want to risk it. Both Stef and Lena frown slightly. "Do you think you could try just one bite? It would be really good for you." She pushes.

"I guess." I shrug, irritated. Lena offers me a small bite, and I take it carefully. To my surprise, it doesn't bother me. My stomach, on the other hand, seriously disagrees. She offers me another bite, but I turn it down. After 5 more spoonfuls of broth, I shake my head when Lena lifts another spoonful toward me. "Don't want." I say, my voice managing to sound even worse.

Lena looks at Stef, who looks at me with worry. "Love, can you try to eat a little bit more?" I feel anger flare inside me momentarily. "No." I croak. Lena sighs, and Stef gets out of the chair, coming to stand next to the bed. "I know it's hard, sweets, but can you at least take 2 more spoonfuls for us?"

I look away from her, feeling anxious. "Fine." I relent. Eating makes my stomach feel sour, and after 2 more spoonfuls, I feel like vomiting. "Feel sick." I say, which causes Stef and Lena to share a slightly panicked glance as they look for something for me to throw up into. "No," I clarify "Not puke." I _feel_ like I want to hurl, but I don't think I am actually going to.

Lena finds a vomit bag, anyway, and sets it on the table. "Okay, well here is one just in case you feel like you do need to at some point." She says, making sure the bag is in close reach.

"You did a good job, Cal, thank you for taking those extra bites." Stef praises. For some reason, this makes me angry. I don't acknowledge her, instead attempting to pull the blankets up over me so I can go back to sleep.

Stef grabs hold of the blanket and tucks it in for me. "Do you want to lay back?" She asks, ready to lower the head of the bed. I nod, and she lowers me down. Lena is cleaning up the trash from our brunch, and I find myself dozing off almost immediately, lulled into sleep by her mundane actions as Stef combs her fingers lazily through my hair.

* * *

5:20pm

When I wake up again, I am shivering violently, far more nauseous now than I was before I fell asleep. I try to sit up, but only succeed in fumbling around and causing myself pain. Lena comes to my aid, raising the bed for me. "Thanks." I mumble.

"Are you cold?" She asks. Before I even nod, she is already tucking the blanket around me, bundling me up. I look up and notice Stef is speaking with a new doctor. Before I have time to be worried, I realize I'm going to throw up. "Throw up." I say, panicky. Lena manages to stick the bag under my mouth just as I begin retching.

Nothing comes out, which almost makes it worse. Stef has come over to rub my back, both her and Lena speaking soothingly to me. After a few minutes of dry heaving, I've become a sweaty mess. Lena pulls the blanket off me, replacing it with a lighter sheet.

I lean my head back, trying to catch my breath. "Do you feel any better, honey?" Lena asks, pushing a few sweaty strands of hair out of my face. "No." I groan, my stomach still cramping.

The doctor Stef was talking to comes back into the room, surprising me. I didn't even realize she had left. "Hi, Callie. I'm Dr. Carter, but you can call me Beth." She smiles kindly at me. "I've got some anti-nausea medication that I can give you, would that be okay?" I'm a little suspicious that she is asking for my permission, but I accept it anyway, desperate for some relief.

She carefully connects the syringe to my IV, pushing the medication. "This should start to help in just a couple minutes." She explains, disconnecting the syringe and moving across the room to dispose of it. I let myself scrutinize her, semi-curious. She is small and delicate, maybe just over 5'0". She looks younger, too; 30s maybe, with dark brown hair.

She turns around, seeming to regard me as well. "I'm sorry that I wasn't working when you came in yesterday, Callie. I will be your doctor from here on out, though, okay?" She seems genuinely apologetic, but I have no idea why. "Ok." I answer.

"So, besides the nausea, how are you feeling today?" She comes toward me, but keeps her distance. I shrug. She seems nice enough, but I don't trust her, and I am not interested in being poked at again. "Are you in any pain right now?" She pushes, seeming unperturbed. I fight not to roll my eyes at this. _No, lady, I feel like a million bucks._ _ **Obviously**_ _I'm in pain._ I choose to ignore her instead. Maybe if I do, she'll go away.

"You need to answer her, sweets." Stef speaks up, giving my shoulder a light squeeze. I sigh. "Yes." I respond, not looking at her.

"Okay. Where are you hurting worst?" I pause, considering this. "Hands. And throat." I answer honestly. She nods, looking like she's considering something.

"You know that you can use the morphine button at any time to give yourself relief from some of the pain, right?" Part of me feels judged, but I can tell by her tone that she doesn't mean it that way.

I nod my understanding. "Okay, well as long as you are aware of that. We're not going to force you to take the pain medication, but I really do recommend that you use it whenever you need to. We want you to be as comfortable as possible." She sounds sincere. Kind. Maybe she's not too bad.

"Your mom was telling me that you're having difficulty feeling and moving your fingers?" She asks. I nod. "Do you mind if I see?" I hesitate. I don't really want her touching me. But I guess if it's just my hands.. I nod again.

She picks up my right hand up, and I watch her defensively. "Can you wiggle your fingers for me?" She asks. I try. It comes out as some odd twitching. "Okay, good job. Now I want you to look away and tell me if you can feel what finger I'm touching." I frown, unnerved.

"It's alright, love. We're here." Stef says. I look away. A moment passes. "Did you feel that, Callie?" She asks. I look back at her, shaking my head. I didn't feel anything. She maneuvers each of my fingers around carefully, asking if there is any pain. "Sometimes." I answer.

She picks up my left hand, going through the same motions with slightly better results. On this hand I can feel when she touches it, and the wiggling is a bit more pronounced.

"Okay. The issue may resolve itself over time, but we will get you into physical therapy to make sure everything heals as best it can. If it continues like this after PT, we will see what other options we can look at." She explains. I frown, wondering how long that will take. I don't have much time to think about it before she begins talking again.

"I was also talking to your moms about possibly sending you home tomorrow." This gets my attention, and I look right at her. "Yes. Please." I beg. She gives me a smile. "I thought you might be interested in that! Right now everything is looking well enough that we should be able to discharge you in the morning. There are a few stipulations, though." She says seriously, causing my heart to sink.

"It was noted in your chart that your ability to speak has gotten progressively worse since yesterday, and you complaining of pain along with that makes me a bit more concerned, as well. You know that we ran some tests yesterday, but I would like to do an additional one to see if anything has changed since then. It's called an Indirect Laryngoscopy. All I'm basically going to do is use a small mirror to look inside your mouth at your throat. It can be slightly uncomfortable, but it's a fairly quick and easy procedure; it should only take about 10 minutes total."

I'm already shaking my head, declining. I'm angry at myself for answering her stupid question earlier. I never should've told her it was hurting.

She continues carefully. "Your moms and I have talked about this, and they also agree it would be a good idea to get you checked, Callie.." I throw a hostile glance at them, angry tears forming in my eyes. It's not fair. They shouldn't get to decide. Lena puts her hand on my arm, and I jerk away from her. I don't want their comfort. This is their fault.

"I understand that you're very anxious about anything to do with your throat, and I fully understand and respect that. We do want to refrain from giving you any more sedation until we've evaluated what's going on, but we can absolutely give you anti-anxiety medication to help you through the procedure." Dr. Carter continues.

I refuse to answer or acknowledge her. _Why even tell me all of this if they're just going to do it, anyway?_ My heart flutters, a dreadful familiarity sinking in. _I have no control over anything_.

"I'm going to get things set up, and some nurses are going to come in to help. I'll let you and your moms talk about if you want to get the medication or not while we do that." Dr. Carter says, turning around to shuffle through some drawers.

"I know this is difficult, love." Stef places her hand hesitantly on my arm, trying to get my attention. I pull away from her without looking; keeping my eyes focused straight ahead of me, unblinking. She continues, anyway. "Do you think you would be okay with getting the medication to make you feel calmer?" For a second, I debate ignoring her. But my anxiety gets the best of me. "Don't want it." I whisper.

Stef sighs. "Honey, are you sure? Nobody is going to hurt you. We will be right here." I shake my head. I _don't_ want drugs. "Okay. If you change your mind at any time, please tell us. I want this to be as easy on you as possible."

A nurse rolls an overhead light to the head of my bed, and then sits me so I am straight up. My heart picks up speed, my anxiety growing. Dr. Carter snaps her gloves on, sliding a tray of instruments over to the bed. I lean away from her.

"So, what's the verdict on the anti-anxiety medication?" She asks me directly. "Don't want." I manage to get out. She looks at me with empathy. "Okay, Callie. If you change your mind, you let us know." She straps a headlamp on, turning on the light.

A nurse turns the overhead light on then, and I feel blinded by the brightness. I close my eyes tightly, pulling my legs up and hiding my face behind my arms. It is only when I feel Stef pull me toward her that I realize I am crying. I don't pull away this time, too needy to be angry. I bury my head into her chest, trying to wrap my arms around her body. "You're okay, love. We've got you." She rocks me slightly.

After a minute, I feel her trying to let go and lean me back against the bed. I fight to stay attached to her.. I know what letting go means. She manages to free herself from me relatively easily; my arms aren't the greatest right now.

"Can you open your mouth for me real quick, Callie?" Dr. Carter asks, holding a small spray bottle in her hand. I clench my jaw automatically, looking at her with distrust. "I'm just going to spray this in your mouth, it will numb your throat." She explains, waiting patiently. I balk, worried, but hesitantly open my mouth.

She squirts the numbing spray into my mouth, and I gag instantly, clenching my jaw shut again. "You're doing great." Dr. Carter states, as though I've just won a race. Stef and Lena are on either side of me, rubbing my arms.

"Okay, now I need you to open your mouth and stick your tongue out. I am going to need to hold and pull your tongue so that I can see into your throat. It may be a little uncomfortable, but it will be over very quickly." Dr. Carter explains, now holding a small mirror on a rod.

This time, I am not so quick to oblige. I glance at Stef, wondering how I can get out of this situation. "You can do it, Cal. I know you can." She tries to encourage me. It takes me a few minutes, but I finally open my jaw, sticking out my tongue. Dr. Carter smiles at me, placing a square of gauze on my tongue before pulling it.

She begins inserting the mirror, and panic wells up inside me. I blindly grasp for Stef and Lena's hands, needing to know they're there. Both of them seem to understand, holding each of my hands gently. "You're doing so great, honey, it'll be over in just a minute." Lena reassures.

I gag a few times, but then it is over surprisingly fast. As soon as Dr. Carter releases my tongue, I clamp my jaw shut. I'm not interested in doing that again. Stef brushes some hair out of my face, leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

"So it looks like you've probably got Acute Laryngitis, likely due to a traumatic injury. We will keep an eye on it, but hopefully you will start feeling better in a week or 2." She smiles at me before beginning cleaning up.

The nurses roll the overhead light away, and everyone starts leaving the room. I pull my legs up again, laying my head on the bed and closing my eyes. I wish this would all be over.

I hear Dr. Carter's footsteps stop before she leaves the room. "You did awesome, kiddo. Hang in there. I'll see you in the morning."


	26. Chapter 26

**Callie POV**

I open my eyes, a small stream of light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. The energy in the room is oddly quiet. I lift my head, peering at Stef and Lena. Both of them are asleep. Lena is somehow curled onto her side, head resting on the back of the chair. Stef is sitting normally, head hanging backward, mouth wide open. I stifle a laugh at how ridiculous she looks.

I am tempted to wake her up; I can't imagine how sore she is going to be after sleeping like that. I'm about to call her name, but I stop myself. Neither of them have gotten much sleep lately.. Maybe I should just let them be.

I try to sit up a little, trying to be as quiet as possible. By the time I manage to get up, my heart is pounding and pain is screaming through my body. I reach to hit the morphine button, desperate for some relief. My stupid fingers won't work right, but I am finally able to use the edge of my cast to hit the button. I hear the 'beep' telling me the dose has been delivered, and I feel oddly successful.

I sit back, allowing the medication to sink in. Slowly the pain begins to fade, and something else takes over. I don't know what it is, exactly. It's a mixture between restlessness and desire. Desire for what, though, I'm not sure. The longer I think about it, the more agitated I become.

I let my mind wander, trying to distract myself. Stef and Lena haven't said anything about any of the kids, and I wonder where exactly everyone might be. Did Mariana and Jesus still go to their summer camps? Did Brandon go to Juilliard? And.. what about Jude?

My stomach twists itself into knots. I haven't even asked about him, yet, which makes me feel like the most awful sister. I just.. I forced myself not to think about him while I was with Russell. For once, I knew that he was safe. I didn't have to worry about if he was being taken care of. For once, it was only _my_ life I had to fight for. Thinking about him, letting myself miss him.. It only made things worse. I didn't think I would live long enough to see any of them again, so I refused to let myself imagine that day happening.

But, now I'll be going home. I have to readjust to a life I thought was over. Right now, I can't even fathom it. I don't know how I can possibly face any of my siblings ever again. It makes me feel like an awful person, but I don't even know if I _want_ to see them, at least right now. I don't want them to know what happened. I don't want them to see me like this. It is hard enough that Stef and Lena have to. I wonder if Jude would hate me, if he knew.

My stomach roils, and I try to swallow down the nausea, desperate not to get sick again. I can tell I'm fighting a losing battle, though, as I look around for that stupid blue puke bag. It's on the table next to me. I reach for it, trying to be quick but quiet.

I'm sweating now, my body feeling like a furnace as I begin shaking. I manage to grasp it, holding it under my mouth in time for me to throw up.

I turn myself away from Stef and Lena, trying to throw up quietly so I don't disturb them. I'm so focused on trying to be silent and take care of myself, I don't hear Stef get up. I catch her out of the corner of my eye, hurrying around the bed.

"Oh, sweetheart. Here, let me help." She takes the bag from my hands, holding it for me. Her other hand brushes my hair back, soothing. "Sorry." I rasp in between retches. "There's nothing to apologize for, Callie. You're okay." She reassures.

Eventually my stomach calms, allowing me a break. I lean back, out of breath and hot. I notice Lena, then, standing next to me. I have no idea when she got up, but she is rubbing small circles on my arm. She pulls the blanket down part way, allowing for some air movement to reach my skin. "Thanks." I gulp, grossed out at how sweaty I am.

"Why didn't you wake us, honey?" Lena asks. "I..uh. It was sudden." I lie, not wanting to get in trouble. Lena looks at me suspiciously, but remains silent. "How is your pain, Cal?" Stef asks, looking concerned. I shake my head. "It's good, I feel okay." I say honestly. The medication really did help.

"Are you sure?" She looks skeptical. "You haven't had any medication since last night.." She trails off. I glue my eyes to the bed, realizing my lie that I didn't have time to wake them up no longer works if they find out I had also given myself my medication. I remain silent.

"If you're in pain, Callie, it's okay to use the medication." She says, clearly thinking I just don't want to take it. I bite my lip. "I-I.. took it." I whisper, risking a quick look at her before dropping my gaze back to the bed.

"Oh. You gave yourself a dose?" She verifies. I nod. "Okay.." She says, seeming like she wants to say more. "You're mad?" I ask, unwilling to chance a look at her now, afraid of the anger I will see. "What? _No,_ " She sounds genuinely surprised. "Callie, no. Not at all. I just don't want you to feel like you can't wake us for help, that's all. You don't have to do it all by yourself." She sounds sincere, and I take a deep breath.

She wraps her arms around me, pressing a kiss to my head. "You're not in trouble, sweet girl. You're perfectly fine, okay?" She whispers. "Kay." I reply, relieved.

There is a slight knock on the door then, before Dr. Carter peers her head in. She walks in, cheery. "Morning! How are we doing today, Callie?" She is looking at me, and my anxiety rises. I shrug, unwilling to give her any more of an answer.

"Well, I have a couple things I need to discuss with you and your moms, but I think we should be able to discharge you this morning. Is that something you want?" I nod quickly. She's got my attention, now. "Yes." Of this, I am confident.

"I thought it may be. I need you to promise me a couple things, though. First, I need you to make sure you are eating enough. We are going to weigh you before you leave, and the next time you come in we need to see that you're gaining weight." I shrug. "Okay." She seems to weigh my answer before continuing.

"The second thing is to make sure you don't overdo it. You are free to begin walking, but don't push yourself. Your body is still recovering and needs more rest than it does exercise. Sound fair?" She finishes.

I nod. "Yep." Whatever I have to say to get me out of here, I don't care. She hesitates before speaking again, changing her focus more toward Stef and Lena now.

"We got the results back from the STD swabs this morning, and she did come up positive for Gonorrhea. Thankfully it's a very simple and easy treatment, and can be cured. We will just want to keep an eye on things, and if there's any change or anything feels different to you, Callie, let your moms know." She looks at me seriously.

I feel sick. I feel worse than sick. I feel humiliated and gross. My stomach heaves, and I grasp for the bag. Lena is quick to help, grabbing it and holding it for me. I retch over and over, nothing coming out. Stef rubs my back, soothing me. I sit back, my stomach mellowed out. "Sorry." I whisper. "You're fine, honey." Lena reassures, brushing hair out of my face.

"I'm sorry, Callie. I'll have the nurse get you some more anti-nausea medication, and we are going to send some home with you as well to help with the drug withdrawal symptoms." She explains. I'm sure she intended to make me feel better, but now I feel worse. _Withdrawal?_ _ **That's**_ _why I've been so sick? My body.. misses it?_

I don't have too much time to think about this before she is moving on. "So Callie, I just need you to drink this, and then we will give you an IM injection of an antibiotic. After that, you will be good to go." She hands Lena a cup of milky-looking liquid. I eye it suspiciously. "It's just an antibiotic powder mixed with water. I do recommend drinking it quickly; it doesn't taste the best." Dr. Carter explains.

Lena lifts the cup to my mouth, and I gulp it down. It is disgusting, and I partially feel like throwing up again. "Alright, the nurse will be in shortly to give you the IM injection, then I will go over some discharge instructions with your parents and we will get you on your way home. Sound good?" Dr. Carter asks. I nod. She leaves the room, and I sigh in relief. I can't wait to get out of here.

Just as Stef and Lena are finishing packing up their things, a nurse comes in with a syringe of medication. My pulse quickens, nerves sinking in. "Good morning! So this is just an antibiotic in here, you won't feel different at all afterward, okay?" She comforts, apparently already aware of my aversion. I give no response, still wary.

"I do have to give this in a large muscle, so what we're going to do is have you roll onto your side, and I will give it in your ventrogluteal muscle, which is sort of going to be the side of your butt, okay?" She explains. I look up at Stef, anxious. "You'll be okay, love. It'll be quick." She reassures me, rubbing my arm.

"Okay, we are going to roll you onto your right side, Callie." The nurse explains. Lena is on my right side, Stef and the nurse on my left. I feel the nurse lift my gown, and I grasp on to Lena's hand with more strength than I thought I could muster, fear driving me.

"You're doing great, sweetie." Lena soothes. I squeeze my eyes closed when I feel hands on me, my breath catching."There's going to be a quick stick, Callie." The nurse warns. The sharp prick into my skin makes me jump. It hurts like hell, but I grit my teeth, refusing to show it. I feel her withdraw the needle and pull my gown back down, and I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"You did perfect, Callie. The doctor is going to come back in to go over a few things with your moms, and then you should be able to go home within' the hour." The nurse explains as she disposes of the needle and washes her hands.

Sure enough, Dr. Carter comes back into the room a few minutes later, stepping aside with Stef and Lena. At first I wonder what they're discussing, but then I find myself caught up in my own thoughts; anxiety creeping in at the prospect of finally going home.

I'm not sure how long it has been, but I realize that Dr. Carter is no longer in the room, and Stef and Lena are sitting in their chairs. I watch them for a moment, debating whether or not to say anything. Finally, I realize that I have to. I have to know what I'm walking in to.

"Um.." I clear my throat. "Brandon." I don't know how to ask what I want, so I just make a statement. Stef and Lena look at each other, both looking equally as confused as the other.

"What about him, honey?" Lena asks. I fiddle with my fingers, watching them twitch. "Is he… home?" I ask. "No, love. He's at Juilliard for the summer." Stef answers.

I nod. "Jesus?" I question. "He's at a wrestling camp. He will be home in a few weeks." Lena replies, knowing what I am asking this time. "Mariana is at a Robotics camp for a few more weeks, as well, so you will have the room to yourself." Stef adds.

I let myself absorb this information. "And… Jude?" I ask quietly. "He is with grandma Sharon right now." Lena informs me, and I feel instantly guilty. He shouldn't have had to have his life upended because of my actions.

"He's ok?" I check, needing to know. "Of course, honey. Mom and I have made sure to spend a lot of time with him. He was worried for you; we all were. But he is okay. I know he's going to be really happy to see you." She confirms.

"He's home?" I ask, heart in my throat. "No, no. He's not. I just mean once everything is settled, he will be happy to see you." She explains. I release a breath. I feel awful for being relieved that none of them are at the house, but I'm just not ready. Talk about a shitty sister.

A tear falls onto my cheek, and I try to brush it away before anyone notices. Stef stands up, and I know she saw. She crouches beside my bed, getting eye-level with me.

"What is it, sweets?" Her voice is soft, and it makes my tears flow faster. I shake my head, unsure how to voice what I'm feeling; unsure _what_ I am even feeling.

"Do you want him to be home?" She asks gently. "No!" My answer is too quick, too sure. "I'm sorry." I say immediately, overwhelmed with guilt. "I love him." I rasp out, covering my face with my hands, allowing myself to cry.

"Oh, sweets. You don't need to apologize, and we didn't question your love for him for a second. Your brother is okay, and momma and I will make sure he stays that way. It is okay if you need time, Callie." She speaks to me with a kindness I don't deserve, and more emotions bubble up within' me.

"I want you to focus on yourself for once, love, without feeling guilty. Whatever you need is what we will do. You don't need to feel overwhelmed. There is no pressure, nobody is going to be upset with you. We've got several weeks to get settled in more, okay?" She reaches for my hand, taking it gently in her own. Lena is beside me now as well, rubbing circles on my arm.

I still feel guilty, worried that they will think I'm an awful person for not wanting my siblings around. "I- I just." I sniffle, trying to catch my breath. "Am weak." I try to explain, but it doesn't come out as I intend. I'm used to being the protector of my siblings; the tough one. Now, I'm nothing like myself. I'm vulnerable, weak, and incapable. This is the version of myself I have always protected Jude from. But right now, I don't have the ability to hide it.

"Honey, you are _not_ weak." Lena says strongly. "There's a lot to process right now, and that's okay. We aren't going to bombard you with anything. When we go home, it will just be you, me, and mom until you are ready. Okay?" There is nothing but honesty and love in their eyes. I nod. "Okay." I accept, my voice shaking.

* * *

An hour later, a nurse comes in pushing a wheelchair. "You're just about ready to go home, Callie! We are going to get one last set of vitals on you, get your weight, and then you are free to go." She states happily. I wait impatiently for the blood pressure cuff to do its thing while the nurse brings over a scale. I'm anxious to get out of this place.

"Alright, we're going to help you off the bed, you're going to stand on the scale, and then we will have you sit down in the wheelchair so you can go home." The nurse explains. "Can walk." I state, not actually positive that I can, but tired of feeling vulnerable.

"Nu uh," Stef corrects gently. "Doctors orders, love. You want to go home, you've gotta take your freedom ride in the wheelchair." I feel unexplainably crushed by this, and my face must reflect my disappointment.

"Hey." Stef catches my gaze. "You can walk when we are home, okay? We will help you." She reassures. I nod. The nurse carefully disconnects the wires and tubing from me before gently pulling out my IV. "Perfect. Lets get you on the scale, now." She lets Stef and lena step in, helping me carefully off the bed in much the same manner as before.

I step onto the scale, wobbling a bit. The nurse adjusts it, then writes it down, frowning. I don't like her reaction, but I don't dare question anything, worried that if I bring something up, they won't let me go home.

I step off the scale, and Lena helps me sit down in the wheelchair. "Alright, Callie. We wish you the best! Take care." The nurse says as we grab our things to go. "Thanks." I mumble, embarrassed. Stef pushes me out of the room, and quickly we are making our way to the first floor; just like last time. This time, though, we aren't going back. For that, I'm exceptionally thankful.


End file.
